Flowers of Nimloth
by geek-chick
Summary: This is a tale from Isildur's early life in Numenor, told from the perspective of his future wife. Rated T for violence only. Nominated for the 2007 MEFA's!
1. The First Meeting

**_Flowers of Nimloth_**

**Author's Notes**:

Even though I stuck to canon when I could, I am taking some creative liberties with this story since I could find very little information about Isildur's wife and family in Tolkien's works. I know that his wife stayed in Rivendell while Isildur marched with the Last Alliance and there gave birth to their youngest son. I do not know his wife's name, how they met, or when they were married, so I decided to create my own story of their early life together. Also, the Silmarillion said that Isildur and Anarion were young men at the time of this story, and since Numenoreans came of age at age 25, I am assuming Isildur was in his thirties or forties since he was ten years older than Anarion.

The main sources I used for this story are the "Akallabeth" in the _Silmarillion_ and "The Disaster of the Gladden Fields" in _Unfinished Tales_. I also picked up a few tidbits about Numenorean history and culture from "Aldarion and Erendis" in _Unfinished Tales_, the Appendices in _The Lord of the Rings_, and some of the volumes of HOME.

Also, I have omitted all accent marks and other special characters in names, since one of the websites I am posting this story on often has difficulty displaying them.

Finally, the main idea for this story has been floating around in my head for nearly three years, when I first read the Akallabeth, though most of the details only materialized recently. It took me a long time to actually get it all written down, since I had a crazy schedule in graduate school, and only a slightly easier schedule after I graduated! However, I have finally finished it, and will be posting one chapter every week or so, since I always do one last proofread/revision before I post each one. So I hope you enjoy this story, because I have enjoyed writing it!

Many thanks to my wonderful husband for beta-reading this story!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The First Meeting**

He did not return her gaze the day that she first saw him; indeed, he was unable to even open his eyes. Yet it was on that day that her heart broke for him, and she knew that somehow their fates would be intertwined, if only for a brief while. However, she never could have foretold that the injured young man would someday become her husband, and even now she could not see what the future held for their lives together.

Lienilde sighed at the memory of that first meeting and leaned against the railing of the ship deck, drawing in the fragrance of the freshly cut wood. For it was on that day years ago that Isildur had taken the fruit of Nimloth from the courts of the King in an attempt to lessen the wrath of the Valar. The thought of his heroic deed brought a smile to her face even in the dark times in which she now lived. As the orange rays of the setting sun warmed her face, she closed her eyes and sat on the deck, allowing herself to escape to memories of happier days.

* * *

The sky was grey and sunless when Lienilde awoke on that fateful day. She had always loved the warmth and brightness of a morning sun, and the dark skies only served to cloud her heart that morning. _If only the rains would wait another day_, she thought, for she had hoped to assist her mother in the garden that afternoon. Though it was late autumn, it had been unseasonably warm as of late and several of their garden plants were still bearing fruit, though many trees had begun to shed their leaves. However, the cool wind blowing through the open window heralded both the end of summer and the end of the harvest. With a sigh, she slowly slid out of her bed and began to dress for the day. She had just begun braiding her hair when a knock sounded at her bedroom door.

"Lienilde," her mother said, opening the door a crack. "Vorime is here. She needs your help with a patient immediately."

"I will be right there," Lienilde replied, wondering why Vorime was so urgent in asking for her help. Lienilde had begun her apprenticeship under the elderly healer nearly a year ago, and her master seldom requested her assistance early in the morning or late at night, allowing the girl to spend part of each day with her family. Perhaps the patient was so ill that she simply required another pair of hands. Lienilde had noticed no concern in her mother's voice, but more likely than not Vorime had told her mother nothing other than she had need for her apprentice.

Lienilde quickly tied the end of her dark braid and rushed out of her room, nearly colliding with Vorime who had been pacing throughout the house. The healer instantly turned toward the door. "Come," Vorime said as they left the house. "One of the sons of Elendil has been gravely injured during the night."

Vorime said no more, not even specifying which of Elendil's sons had been injured. Lienilde's elder brother slipped a slice of bread into her hand as she walked out the door, and she nodded in appreciation for the quick breakfast. As she followed Vorime through the city streets, trying to eat the bread and keep up their quick pace, she wondered what could have transpired over the night. She had never met Elendil's sons despite having lived in the seaport of Romenna her entire life. She knew little about them, other than they were mariners and members of the Faithful as was their father. For these were desperate times in Numenor, with the King obeying Sauron's every command and many of the people of the isle following him in worship of the Dark Lord Melkor. Those few people still loyal to the Valar and the Elves, known as the Faithful, had been all but banished to the eastern city of Romenna. Lienilde had not yet joined in the worship of Melkor, but knowing little of the Valar and the history of Numenor she did not consider herself a member of the Faithful either. She was simply Lienilde, a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice living with her parents and two brothers.

It was not long before they arrived at Elendil's home. The young girl was practically out of breath from their near-running pace and marveled that her aged master did not appear tired in the least. Of course Vorime hardly looked her age -- she stood tall and straight, and there was a light in her eyes that had faded from many others of her generation.

Elendil had been awaiting their arrival and quickly led them to a room in the back of the house. "Isildur has two arrow wounds," he hurriedly explained, distraught clearly visible on his face, "along with several other injuries." The tears that Elendil tried to hide nearly made Lienilde cry herself, and she quickly forgot her musings on how Isildur had been injured as her heart filled with compassion for the father before her. _He believes he is watching his son die!_ she realized, recognizing the hopeless look on his face that she had seen on family members of other dying patients. _If only we could give him hope -- yet I know not the condition of his son! Is hope even possible?_

Elendil opened a door and Lienilde followed her master inside. The room was small, with a single window that provided little light. Two men were already in the room, a young man standing by the window and an older man sitting at the bedside. She recognized the latter as Amandil, father of Elendil and Lord of Andunie, and she assumed that the other must be Isildur's brother, Anarion. But when she laid eyes on the bed and the injured man lying there, the rest of the scene vanished from her thoughts. Isildur was lying on his stomach and what little clothes he wore were nearly soaked with blood, along with the bedding on which he lay. Two broken arrow shafts protruded from his body, one in his shoulder, another from the back of his leg. Despite the horror before her, what captured her attention most was his face. Isildur's head was twisted towards her, his eyes closed in the bliss of unconsciousness. His dark hair had been pulled away from his face and laid matted with blood and sweat on the sheets. Yet what startled her most was that he was so young -- he was barely older than she, barely even old enough to be called a man. What could such a young man do to deserve such a punishment? Her heart was suddenly filled with an unexplainable desire to help this man, a compassion stronger than she had ever felt for any of her other patients.

"Lienilde!" She looked up, startled out of her reverie, to see Vorime already at Isildur's side. "Help me bandage this wound, ere we open the others by removing the arrows." She gestured toward Isildur's side; Lienilde could not even see the injury through the blood that covered him. She soon discovered that he had several more wounds in addition to those caused by the arrows: deep gashes on various parts of his body, likely from a knife or sword, and a few bruises. She tried to push her feelings aside as she always did when at her duties, but she was surprised to find she could not do so with Isildur. She fought back tears the entire time she covered his wounds and later helped with removing the arrow shafts, and she prayed that her master did not notice her emotions.

* * *

It was well past noon when Vorime announced that she had done all that she could at this time for Isildur. She and her apprentice had removed the arrows, cleaned all of the wounds, and applied several varieties of healing herbs. Isildur never awoke or even moved through the entire process, and both master and apprentice were unsure whether he would survive until the morrow. "All we can do now is wait until his condition changes," Vorime told the concerned family. She did not express her doubts about Isildur's fate, but all could see the hopelessness in her eyes.

Lienilde turned her head toward the wall and shut her eyes, ignoring her master as Vorime continued to discuss Isildur's condition with his family. Lienilde had finally managed to control her tears during the final stages of the healing process, but seeing Vorime's lack of hope caused her to lose her composure once more. She still could not explain why Isildur was affecting her so much. Was it simply because he was approximately her age and she was able to relate more to him than many of her other patients? Or was there a deeper connection that remained unexplained? She longed to know how the young man had received his injuries, for though she knew little about Elendil's family she had never heard a negative comment about his sons, and she wondered who could attack an innocent man -- for Isildur's attacker surely meant to kill him, judging by the severity of his wounds. Or perhaps Isildur was not as innocent as she believed?

"Lienilde!" The girl suddenly realized that Vorime had called her name twice, and quickly brushing away her tears she turned to her master and sat up straight, trying to look like the composed, professional apprentice that she should be.

"I would like you to stay with Isildur for the rest of the day, and possibly the next few days, until he begins to recover," said Vorime. "I will leave the bandages and medicines with you; you know what to do. If his condition worsens, please send someone for me immediately." Vorime could see the emotion in Lienilde's face but ignored it for now. This was certainly the most gruesome case that Lienilde had helped with thus far, and Vorime was not surprised that it would affect her so, though if she did not calm down soon, Vorime may need to have a discussion with her apprentice. Good healers should be able to hide their emotions and offer hope to the family members when warranted, though even she did not feel that there was much hope for this case.

"Of course, master," Lienilde replied, not knowing what else to say. Vorime's command that she stay with Isildur had caught her rather off guard.

"If you will excuse me," Vorime said as she turned toward Elendil and Amandil, "I have other patients I must attend to."

"Thank you for your services," Amandil replied. A tear was still visible in his eye, though he was much calmer than his son and grandson. "We will let you know immediately if Isildur's condition changes." Turning toward Lienilde, he added, "And you may stay with us as long as you need."

"Thank you, sir", Lienilde replied.

"I shall return tonight," the healer concluded. With that, Vorime left her apprentice alone with her charge and his family.

* * *

Several moments passed in uneasy silence after Vorime left the house. Elendil sat by the bed, staring at his unmoving son and hardly moving himself. Amandil made his way toward the window and gazed outside, clearly lost in thought. Lienilde watched him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. Anarion, who had hardly stood still during the healing process, now paced through the room one last time and then left, leaving Lienilde alone with the grieving father and grandfather. For though Isildur was not yet dead, they were grieving -- grieving for the pain he had surely experienced, and perhaps already grieving for his death which they all felt was imminent though no one would admit it. Lienilde could hardly bear the sorrow that was so evident in the room and looked down at the floor, her eyes unfocused. _Why do we continue in such a charade?_ she thought. _We all doubt Isildur will live, yet we talk as if he will be well in just a few days! They tell me to stay as long as I wish, yet I doubt I will be needed for long... I have seen this act with the family of every dying patient I have treated._ "If death is the 'gift of men', why do we fear it so?"

Lienilde suddenly realized that she had whispered the last sentence aloud, and felt the stares of Amandil and Elendil. Too embarrassed to confront them, she continued to stare at the floor and suddenly noticed several discarded bandages and wrappings for the herbs. She quickly bent down and began to gather the refuse and clean the floor. Elendil and Amandil said nothing, much to Lienilde's relief, and soon they were ignoring her just as before.

Having gathered all of the garbage, Lienilde carried it outside, grateful for a reprieve from the dark, stuffy room. She did not even notice that the sun had come out until she left the house. Leaning against the wall of the house, she closed her eyes and greedily drank up the sun's warmth, trying to forget the horror and dismay that she had experienced all morning. The sunlight was calming, comforting, and soon the tears had dried from Lienilde's face and her mind knew only the light of the sun. Truly, men were children of the sun, for nothing else could have such an effect on her.

"Lienilde?" Her name was spoken softly, barely more than a whisper, yet it was enough to draw Lienilde out of the peace that she had so briefly enjoyed. She opened her eyes and turned to see Anarion standing next to her, and the memories of the morning came crashing into her mind like a sudden great wave rushing onto a calm beach.

"Yes?" she asked weakly, not willing to confront reality so soon. She longed to escape from the sadness of the household, but knew she could not do so any time soon.

"I..." Anarion began, then nervously scratched the back of his head. Clearly he was unsure of what to say, yet he wanted to talk to someone, also wishing to escape from the morning's events. "Thank you," he said simply, never actually making eye contact with Lienilde.

"Anarion, what happened to your brother?" Lienilde spoke before she realized what she was saying. She was still disoriented from all that had transpired. "I'm -- I'm sorry," she immediately apologized. "You don't have to talk. I shouldn't have--"

"It's all right," Anarion answered, still speaking softly. Lienilde felt her face flush and quickly shut her mouth. "I'm not sure if Grandfather would want you to know," Anarion said, "though perhaps if you stay with us a while he may tell you."

_Not want me to know?_ she thought, _Has Isildur committed some sort of crime? Has he performed some secret act of war? No, that is silly; there is no war on this side of the Sea! What has he done?_

Anarion saw the confusion on her face and respected her for not questioning further. For Anarion knew that if what Isildur had done became public knowledge, not only would Isildur's life be in even more danger than it already was, but the rest of their family would be at risk as well. "Come," Anarion said, "Let us go back inside."

"Of course," the healer's apprentice replied, knowing that her duties lay with the injured young man in the back room of the house. With one last glance at the bright sun, she turned her back to its warmth and returned to the darkness inside.

* * *

**Notes:**

Though the use of Elvish languages was forbidden in Numenor at the time of this story, the Lords of Adunie gave their children Elvish names in addition to their Adunaic names. Since I do not know the Adunaic names for Elendil and his family, I used their Elvish names. Additionally, most of my original characters have Elvish names as well, since it is much easier for me to look up Elvish names than Adunaic! However, it would make sense that members of the Faithful took Elvish names for themselves after arriving in Middle-Earth, so perhaps this story was simply written in Middle-Earth, using the Elvish names the characters were remembered by!

Name meanings:

Lienilde: "People-loving"  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast"


	2. Musings in the Night

**Chapter 2: Musings in the Night**

Lienilde stayed with Isildur's family for the rest of the day and through the night. She spent the entire time in Isildur's room, with only a brief break for a silent dinner with Elendil and Anarion, since Amandil had returned to his own house for the night. It was obvious that Elendil and Anarion did not wish to talk, so she did not speak either. Vorime stopped by after dinner to change Isildur's bandages, but she too spoke little, for it was clear that their patient's condition had not changed. Lienilde slept for only a few moments that night, not wanting to break her vigil, though Elendil and Anarion both retired late in the night after sitting with her for several hours.

The young healer had managed to appear calm and confident the entire time that Elendil and Anarion had sat with her -- only because they did not speak with one another -- but after the men had left her mind and emotions soon began to wander. She sat at Isildur's bedside, staring at his sleeping form. The room was lit by a single candle, and the small flame gave a warm glow to Isildur's pale face. However, the light did not deceive her, for she knew his true state and the danger in which he yet remained. She recalled his father's and brother's expressions from earlier that day, and how apparent it was that they feared Isildur was approaching death. Lienilde's thoughts began to stray to the first time she had encountered a death herself.

She was fortunate enough to have never experienced the death of a close family member. Two of her grandparents had died when she was very young, and she hardly remembered them or their deaths. A distant cousin had died when his boat sank in a storm a year ago, but again, she had not been affected since she had barely known him. She did not truly face death until she began her apprenticeship. Two short months after beginning her training under Vorime, the master and apprentice visited the home of an ill elderly man. When his children and grandchildren greeted the healers, Lienilde could instantly sense their intense fear and sadness. Their strong emotions had frightened Lienilde, and she avoided their eyes as they made their way to the man's room. She knew that they thought he would die, and she also knew that the whole family was praying that Vorime and Lienilde could heal their patriarch. _But what if we fail?_ Lienilde kept thinking, over and over. _This man's life is in our hands! What if we fail?_

When she first saw the patient, her heart sank even further. The man was thin, so thin Lienilde could hardly believe that he was a living man and not a skeleton. Only a few strands of long, white hair were left on his head, and when he opened his mouth to cough or gasp for breath, she could see that his teeth were yellow and broken. She remembered that she had stood still, staring, until a stern glance from Vorime brought her thoughts back to her duties.

They administered several herbs and medicines to the patient, but they seemed to make no difference in his condition. As Vorime and Lienilde treated other patients later that day, her thoughts remained with the elderly man and his family. When the healers returned to the man's home that evening, they found that he had already passed away. All of his family, about a two dozen people, was gathered in one room, crying and grieving together. Vorime and Lienilde only stayed for a few moments, but during that time she felt the stares of the young grandchildren. _Why could you not save him?_ they seemed to cry, though they spoke no such words. _Why did you let our grandfather die?_

Lienilde had no idea how she had managed to not break down and cry right there in the house. Vorime sent her home as soon as they left the house, knowing that her young apprentice needed time to heal from what she had seen.

Lienilde remembered that she had returned home and refused to eat dinner with her family that night, and had spent the evening alone in her room. Her mind told her that there was nothing they could have done to save the man, but her heart remembered the pleas in the children's eyes and tried to tell her that she had let down the entire family. That night was the first time she truly began to question her belief that death was the Gift of Man, a belief she had blindly accepted since childhood. If death was a gift, why was his family so distraught to see him die? Why did the elderly man himself try so hard to hang onto life rather than gladly receive his gift? She remembered crying on her mother's shoulder later that night, though she could not recall a word her mother said. All she knew was that her heart eventually healed, and with each death that she witnessed as a healer, her own pain grew smaller.

So why was Isildur upsetting her so? She thought that she had learned how to remain calm with a dying patient, but this day had proven her wrong. Was it simply because Isildur was so young? All of the other patients she had seen die were elderly, so was it possible it was simply Isildur's age that troubled her?

She again looked at Isildur's sleeping face and wiped away her own tears, not even knowing when they had first appeared again. _You are different, Isildur_, she thought. _You are young and strong, and you do not deserve death yet. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to heal you -- I will not let you down!_

Lienilde's newfound determination gave her strength, but still her heart was burdened with all of the emotions she had felt earlier that day, and soon it could endure no more. As the night wore on, her heart became numb to her feelings and her determination lessened, and though she remained awake, her mind strayed to other things: her friends and family, her elder brother's upcoming wedding, her other patients. Such thoughts helped calm her heart, though seeing Isildur laying in front of her kept her from experiencing any sort of true peace. She did doze off a few times, but never for very long, for she saw Isildur even in her dreams.

During the later portions of the night her patient began to shift about and mumble in his sleep though he never fully awoke; however, even that was an encouragement to Lienilde since he had not moved the entire day. When the sun rose in a cloudless sky the next morning, Isildur's condition had changed little, but the fact that he had survived the night brought hope to the healer's apprentice.

Not long after sunrise, a soft knock sounded at Isildur's door. "Lienilde?" Anarion whispered, cracking open the door. Seeing Lienilde awake, he continued, "How is he?" His voice was hesitant, as if he were afraid of the answer he would receive.

"His condition is the same, if not slightly better," she replied, trying to sound confident and assured despite her lack of sleep. "Though he still has a long road to full recovery."

"Of course," Anarion replied, relieved to find his brother still alive though he was obviously still greatly concerned. He had only been able to get a few short hours of sleep himself. After a brief pause he asked, again slightly hesitant, "Would you care for some breakfast?"

A slight smile appeared on Lienilde's lips, the first since she had arrived at the house. "I would love some." Suddenly self-conscious of her unkempt hair and wrinkled dress, she added "I will be there in a moment."

Anarion nodded and left the room. After a quick glance to ensure that Isildur's bandages were still clean, Lienilde quickly rebraided her hair and attempted to smooth her dress. She could hear Anarion and Elendil talking and assumed that the younger man was reporting on his brother's condition, but by the time she left Isildur's room the two men had fallen back to their routine of silence. Suppressing a sigh, Lienilde joined the two for yet another wordless meal. Having grown up in family who considered mealtimes to be social times, these silent meals were nearly as depressing to her as treating her near-death patient in the back room. However she dared not break the silence, knowing that she was a guest in their home and wanting to behave like a proper young lady.

Shortly after breakfast Lienilde's younger brother stopped by with a change of clothes for her, for Vorime had informed her family where she would be spending the next few days. Anarion allowed Lienilde to use his bed for a short nap, and the young girl was asleep nearly as soon as she lay down, her first chance to truly escape the horror of the previous day.

* * *

Lienilde awoke to a bright midday sun shining through the window onto her face. She lied in bed for a few moments with her eyes closed, absorbing the sun's warmth, when she suddenly remembered where she was. With a sigh, she slowly pulled herself out of bed, changed into the dress her brother had brought earlier, and made her way to Isildur's room.

As she brought her hand up to knock on Isildur's door, she heard a soft voice inside. Recognizing the voice as Anarion's, she lowered her hand and turned to leave, but the words she heard tugged at her heart and she stayed, listening to Isildur's brother through the partially closed door.

"Isildur," she heard Anarion say, his voice broken. He was obviously crying and she knew that she should leave him alone in his grief, yet for some reason she stayed -- whether from concern for Isildur and his family or simply from morbid curiosity, she knew not.

"Isildur," Anarion repeated. His voice was soft, and she strained to hear all that he said. "Why did you not tell me of your intentions? Did you--" The next few words she could not make out, but tears quickly welled up in her eyes and began to fall freely down her face when she heard the mourning brother continue: "I would have come with you," Anarion whispered. "I would have protected you. I would have died for you!"

Suddenly, Lienilde could take no more without crying aloud herself. She quickly but quietly made her way back to Anarion's room and lay face down on his bed. The grief in the house was overwhelming, and Lienilde's heart finally broke fully for the family. Burying her face in the pillow, she cried long and hard until she fell asleep, not knowing that Elendil and Anarion could hear her.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.


	3. Isildur’s Great Deed

**Chapter 3: Isildur's Great Deed**

She arose about an hour later, the tears finally dry, her heart calm again. She immediately recalled the words she had overheard Anarion tell his sleeping brother, but she tried to push the memories from her mind, already feeling embarrassed for staying to listen. She also began to feel guilty that she had neglected her duties as healer for much of the day, so she walked to Isildur's room to check on his condition. This time she paused, and when she heard no voices, she knocked on the door.

When there was no reply to her knock, she entered the room and sat by Isildur's bed. He had been propped up on his side the previous day with several blankets and pillows, to allow for easier breathing and to keep his weight off the injuries on his back and chest. His face was turned toward her, his eyes still closed in unconsciousness. Lienilde had intended to change his bandages, but once again she found herself memorized by his young face. What was it that so attracted her to the wounded man? She knew nothing about him, not even how he came by his injuries. She longed to see a smile on his face, to ask him what happened, or even just to see his eyes open -- with a start, she realized that she didn't even know what color they were.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, slowly bringing a hand to his face. There were no tears this time -- her tears were spent -- but the compassion she had felt earlier was still present. Her fingers soon found their way into his still matted hair, and then down to his warm, feverish cheek. At their touch, Isildur began to stir, and Lienilde, startled, quickly pulled her hand back. To her amazement, Isildur then groaned and opened his eyes slightly, staring past her blankly.

_Dark grey_, she thought to herself. _His eyes are a dark grey. Like a storm cloud -- a storm over a dark sea_. Many Numenoreans of Beorian descent had eyes in some shade of grey, but his eyes were slightly darker than average. Suddenly remembering that she was here as his healer and not his admirer, she felt her face flush as she asked, "Isildur? Can you hear me?"

The young man did hear and slowly turned his eyes to look at her, though he remained silent. Lienilde continued, hoping to keep him awake. "My name is Lienilde. I am a healer -- or rather, a healer's apprentice. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Isildur replied, his voice raspy and hardly louder than a whisper. "And...thirsty."

"Here, drink this," Lienilde answered, holding a cup of water to his lips. A good healer always had water available for their patients. _Though if I had known he would awaken, I would have made some medicinal tea!_ Lienilde thought, making a mental note to prepare the tea later that day so it would be ready the next time he awoke. _Assuming there will be a next time_, she reminded herself, for Isildur was far from healed, though in her heart she felt that he would survive. Why she felt this way she knew not, for just the fact that Isildur had awakened did not ensure his recovery. But there was no denying the sudden hope that filled her heart and threatened to chase away the darkness.

Isildur managed to take a few sips of water, then coughed and quickly fell back asleep. Encouraged that he had awakened if only for a brief time, the young healer forgot about her intent to change his bandages and left to find Elendil and his family to share the good news.

A quick tour of the house convinced her that no one was inside, so she decided to check the stables and sheds. If the men were not there, she would assume they were at the shipyards and would wait for them to return. She quickly made her way to the back of the house and entered the stables, only to find several horses and a single stable hand. As she left the stables, she heard muffled voices coming from a small storage shed, so without thought she walked to the shed and opened the door.

She was startled to find Amandil, Elendil, and Anarion all in the small building, and they in turn were surprised to see her, for they all stopped what they were doing immediately upon seeing the door open. Elendil stood in the center of the shed holding a shovel, with the beginnings of a small hole at his feet. Anarion stood rigid in the corner, with Amandil beside him, holding a small white object which Lienilde could not identify. "I'm -- I'm sorry," she stammered as she moved to shut the door and leave, "I did not mean to interrupt--"

"No, it's all right," Amandil answered, "Please stay." Lienilde paused, unsure of whether to stay since she knew her presence had been uninvited. She noticed Elendil and Anarion both glance at the older man, apparently surprised that he would ask her to stay. After a brief mental deliberation, Lienilde decided it was best not to disobey the man, so she entered the shed and shut the door behind her. She was surprised to find that the shed was rather well-lit with the door shut, due to a small window high on the wall and several cracks and holes in the wooden roof.

"Lienilde," Amandil continued, "I know that your parents are trustworthy and righteous, and from what I have seen I judge that you are the same." The young healer blushed, for no one had ever described her as "righteous" before this day. She also wondered what had spurred this preamble, and what the old man would say next. "You have been diligent in treating my grandson, and I feel that it is only right for you to know how he received his injuries."

Lienilde's heart jumped to know she would finally find the answers to the questions that had been plaguing her since the previous morning, yet she was curious as to how their activities in the shed related to Isildur's doings. So she simply remained silent, waiting for Amandil to continue.

"I trust that your parents have educated you in the history of our great isle of Numenor?" Amandil continued.

"A little," Lienilde replied, for it had been many years since she had received any lessons about Numenor's history and remembered little of what she had been taught. But how did this relate to Isildur?

"Do you know the history of Nimloth, the white tree in the courts of the King?"

She thought for a moment and replied with all the knowledge she could recall: "I know that it is related to Telperion, one of the Two Trees that lighted the world ere the days of the sun."

Amandil smiled. "Very good. A more detailed history of Nimloth I will give you another day, perhaps. However there is one more important aspect that you must know. Surely you are aware of how the King and the people of Numenor have fallen so far from the will Valar?"

"Of course," Lienilde replied. She now began to wonder if she should have paid more attention to her parents' political discussions instead of gardening or playing with her brothers. She still did not understand how this conversation related to Isildur, but she held her tongue and allowed Amandil to speak.

"Many years ago, the King Tar-Palantir prophesized that the fate of the King's house, the line of Elros, would be forever tied to the fate of Nimloth. A week ago, I received word that Sauron was trying to convince the King to cut down the White Tree. I was distraught, knowing that such an act would bring the curse of the Valar down upon the King and all of Numenor, and I shared the news with my son and grandsons. Isildur took it upon himself to enter the King's courts in disguise, and stole a fruit from the branches of Nimloth."

Amandil held aloft the white object he had been holding, and Lienilde suddenly realized that it was the fruit of Nimloth. The fruit was round and white, with the slightest hint of a silver shimmer when the rays of the sun touched it. She suddenly felt tears in her eyes threaten to run down her face as she realized the heroic act that Isildur had performed. All of her emotions and concern for the man suddenly made sense -- it was as if somehow she had known of his deed all along. But how could she have known of his actions? Had she somehow been given such compassion so that she could give Isildur all the care that he needed? These thoughts had barely entered her mind when she became distracted by Amandil's continued conversation.

"Isildur did not tell us of his intentions," Amandil said. "And we did not know of them until he appeared on my doorstep yesterday morning, in the condition in which you found him."

Lienilde quickly looked down to hide her watery eyes, failing to notice similar emotions on the other men's faces. How had he managed to travel all the way from Armenelos, the capital city of Numenor, with such injuries? If he had been conscious she supposed he could have ridden a horse, but a fifty-mile ride with arrow shafts still in his body would have been incredibly painful. Surely the grace of the Valar had followed this young man and brought him home!

After a moment's pause, Amandil continued. "It is now time for us to finish Isildur's task. He saved this fruit in an attempt to preserve the line of Nimloth and lesson the wrath of the Valar. We must now plant the fruit, so that if Nimloth does fall to the ax of Sauron, its descendent will live on."

Now Lienilde understood why they were in the shed -- they hoped to plant the fruit and keep it hidden here in the small building. As long as Isildur's disguise was not found out, no one would have reason to look for the fruit on Elendil's land.

"I see," Lienilde replied, afraid that if she said any more she would break into tears. She did not see the slight smile that appeared briefly on Amandil's lips, for the old man was perceptive and could see the compassion she felt for his grandson.

Elendil began digging again, and the other three watched in silence. After a few moments he set the shovel aside, and Amandil silently placed the fruit in the ground and covered it with loose dirt. Lienilde watched the process intently, while her mind whirled with the information she had just received. _Isildur risked his life to save the fate of Nimloth, to avert the wrath of the Valar! Yet he is so young, like me -- would I ever have the courage to perform such a sacrificial act?_ In her heart, Lienilde feared the answer to her question was no, and she admired Isildur all the more.

When Amandil had finished planting the fruit, he motioned to the others to be silent as he spoke a blessing over the fruit and the seedling which would arise:

"O holy Eru, and great Valar, creators of the stars and Arda and all things upon it, you have blessed Numenor greatly in years passed. You raised our isle from the sea and led us to our new home, and graced us with the splendor of Nimloth, descendent of Galathilion, the image of your great White Tree, Telperion. Your decrees are just and your imminent judgment toward our people is much deserved, yet I pray that you may heed our cry. For Isildur nearly gave his life, and may yet still--" here, his voice faltered, and Lienilde saw a single tear escape his eye at these words. She suddenly remembered that she had come here to inform them of Isildur's improved condition, but remained silent and closed her eyes, caught up in the powerful moment of the blessing. "But by his actions, I pray that your wrath against the line of Elros will be lessened, for here before us is planted the seed of Nimloth. Bless this seed and the tree it will produce, and remember it when your time of judgment comes. May this seedling live long to remind us of the splendor of Numenor which has all but faded in these days. Forgive us all for not heeding your counsel, for we are but mere mortals, and your wisdom is perfect."

After a long moment of silence, the four Faithful opened their eyes nearly simultaneously. Without a word, they left the shed to continue their vigil by Isildur's side.

* * *

_"And Sauron urged the King to cut down the White Tree, Nimloth the Fair, that grew in his courts, for it was a memorial of the Eldar and of the light of Valinor. At first the King would not assent to this, since he believed that the fortunes of his house were bound up with the Tree, as was forespoken by Tar-Palantir. Thus in his folly he who now hated the Eldar and the Valar vainly clung to the shadow of the old allegiance of Numenor. But when Amandil heard rumour of the evil purpose of Sauron he was grieved to the heart, knowing that in the end Sauron would surely have his will. Then he spoke to Elendil and the sons of Elendil, recalling the tale of the Trees of Valinor; and Isildur said no word, but went out by night and did a deed for which he was afterwards renowned... But Isildur came at last hardly back to Romenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him. Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil."_

_-The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion_

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.


	4. Small Talk

**Chapter 4: Small Talk**

A few moments later, the four found themselves at Isildur's bedside. None had yet spoken, for they all were still reflecting on Isildur's actions and on the promise that was now planted in the little shed. Lienilde was especially thoughtful and withdrawn, still trying to absorb all that she had just learned. The tears and depression that had consumed her for the past day and a half slowly gave way to greater thoughts: the newfound hope of Numenor, and pride for Isildur's bravery. For though she still knew little about the wounded man, his deed had given her a surprising insight into his character and she almost felt as if she knew him, and was proud of him for what he had done.

"Lienilde," Amandil said quietly, drawing the apprentice out of her reverie. She looked up to see the old man's face free of tears; indeed, all eyes in the room were dry. Knowing that Isildur may have changed the fate of Numenor had temporarily brought hope and peace to their hearts, for surely Eru would reward such a deed and Isildur's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Yes, sir?" Lienilde replied.

"Has Isildur's condition changed? I have not spoken with you about him since yesterday."

Lienilde suddenly remembered the event that had led to her discovery of Isildur's actions: his short awakening and her desire to notify his family. She scolded herself for neglecting her healer's duties for so long. "It has, sir. He awoke briefly this afternoon and took a little water. When I found you in the shed, I had intended to tell you of his improvement, and I apologize for waiting until now."

"It is all right," Amandil replied, again with a slight smile on his lips, which this time Lienilde did notice. She felt her cheeks warm for the third time since she arrived, and wondered why Isildur's family made her so self-conscious. She had a strong desire to please them and to perform her healer's duties to the best of her ability -- though the desire was not due to a fear that they may ridicule or punish her if she failed, but rather because she truly wanted to help them. She began to realize that she cared for Isildur's family nearly as much as she cared for the injured man himself.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. The three men quickly left and shut the door to Isildur's room, leaving Lienilde alone with Isildur. She asked no questions, for she knew that they did not yet want Isildur's condition to become public knowledge, for others would question how he came by his injuries. She waited by his bedside silently for the visitor to leave before she began changing his bandages -- a duty that she had neglected since the morning.

However, the visitor did not leave, but rather entered Isildur's room with Amandil. It was Vorime, who had come to check on Isildur and her apprentice. "Lienilde," the healer said, after a quick glance at Isildur, "Amandil tells me that you have hardly left your patient's side. How does he fare?"

"He awoke briefly this afternoon," Lienilde answered, "though otherwise there has been little change." Vorime said nothing and began lifting Isildur's bandages to examine his wounds. "I was just about to change the bandages," Lienilde quickly added.

Lienilde stood quietly for a moment of tense silence, waiting for her master to examine her work. The apprentice knew she had done all she could, except for perhaps delaying the changing of the bandages, but she still worried about receiving her master's approval.

"Very good," Vorime finally replied, turning toward her apprentice. "You have performed your duties well. I would like you to stay one more night, and if his condition does not worsen you may return home for a while tomorrow. I do not believe there is anything else that we can do, so now we must continue to treat him and wait." Though she did not say it, Vorime was pleased to see that Lienilde was much calmer than she was the day before. Vorime had been worried that Isildur's case would be too much for the young, inexperienced apprentice, but the healer had other patients she had to see and she could not stay with Isildur day and night.

* * *

The afternoon passed without event, and it was not long before Lienilde found herself sitting at the dinner table with Elendil and Anarion. The meal once again began without a word, but this time Lienilde was determined to break the silence. She knew that the men's thoughts were still consumed with worry for Isildur, but after two days of silence and sadness she could take no more.

"So," she began hesitantly, a few moments after the meal began, "you both work in the shipyards. Do you enjoy your work?"

Elendil and Anarion both looked at her, as if they were surprised that she spoke. Lienilde wondered if she should have held her tongue; after all, she was a guest in their home. Yet after all they had been through in the past two days, she felt little remorse for trying to have a friendly conversation.

"Yes," Anarion finally answered. "It can be long, hard work, but seeing a ship sail that you spent months building is a great reward."

"Aye," Elendil added, "and it is even greater if you are aboard the ship yourself." He said no more, for nearly all Numenoreans felt a great love for the sea. Even Lienilde, who had never sailed before, was still drawn to rolling blue waves under a bright morning sun and understood that sailing must be great delight to these men. She remembered many happy days playing on the nearby beaches with her brothers, running barefoot through the hot sand and splashing through the cool water. There was something invigorating about beginning the day by walking along the beach, or even just gazing out across the sea from a hilltop. However, the endless blue calm, or the grey and white waves under a storm, could also have a humbling effect on a man. The sea brought many emotions, and for the first time she began to consider what a joy it would be to work in the shipyards and to sail across the seas.

Yet before she could voice these thoughts, Elendil spoke again: "Tell us something about yourself, Lienilde. How long have you been an apprentice under Vorime?"

"For almost a year now," she replied. "When I came of age, my mother determined that I should either marry or begin an apprenticeship, and I chose the latter."

"I believe I would have chosen the same," Anarion replied with a slight smile as he reached for his wine. For Lienilde and Anarion were both still young, and neither could imagine themselves bound for life to anyone they knew of the opposite gender. The commitment of an apprenticeship seemed small compared to that of marriage.

"You may choose such now," Elendil said, "but rest assured, there will come a time when you choose differently." He also had a slight smile on his lips, though it was more thoughtful than Anarion's jesting smile. She suddenly wondered what had happened to Elendil's wife, for surely he had been married once. However she knew the bounds of polite conversation and refrained from asking him.

After a brief pause, Anarion, clearly enjoying the conversation and not wishing to revert back to their previous routine of silence, turned to Lienilde and asked, "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Lienilde?"

"Two brothers. Ardil is my elder brother by eight years and works in my father's smithy. Failon is twelve years old -- he stopped by briefly this morning, if you recall."

"Ah, yes. Ardil is engaged to be married, is he not?" Anarion replied.

"Why yes, in a week," Lienilde answered. _Only a week?_ she thought. She had been so isolated from the outside world and from her normal life during the last two days that she had almost forgotten about her brother's upcoming wedding. Her thoughts then quickly returned to Anarion's reply and she said, slightly surprised, "I did not realize that you knew him."

"I know of him," Anarion clarified. "His betrothed's brother is a friend of mine and also works in the shipyards. She is my friend's only sister, and he talks about the wedding often."

"I see," said Lienilde, thankful that the men had responded to her attempt at conversation, even if it was only small talk. They continued to converse for the rest of the meal, but it was not long before Lienilde again found herself alone in Isildur's room for the night.

* * *

The night passed slowly, for once again Lienilde tried to stay awake, though she drifted off several times. It had been a very exhausting two days for her. Elendil had given her some blankets so that she could sleep on the floor, but she spent most of the night sitting on a chair near Isildur's bed. However, she was not as emotional as she was the previous night -- it seemed as if the more time she spent with Isildur, the calmer she became, though she was still just as concerned about him as she was earlier. Perhaps it was simply because such strong emotions were so tiring to the heart, and she could not remain so sad and worried forever. Or perhaps his awakening earlier that day, combined with her knowledge of his heroic feat, gave hope to her otherwise exhausted soul.

Isildur woke once during the night, again for only a brief while, although this time Lienilde had the medicinal tea at hand for him to drink. Again Isildur said little. Lienilde wondered why his condition seemed to remain constant -- he seldom woke, and his fever remained the same despite the herbs that she had given him. She had expected him to be either better or worse by this point, but perhaps she was wrong. She had never dealt with a patient as seriously injured as Isildur, so maybe it would take longer than she expected for him to heal. _After all_, she suddenly realized,_ it has only been two days -- though it feels like so much longer!_

A few hours before sunrise, Lienilde's lack of sleep finally caught up to her. Wrapping herself in the borrowed blankets, she curled up on the floor and was soon fast asleep. She slept soundly, and did not notice that Isildur woke again during the night and watched her sleep for a few moments before returning to his fever-dreams.

* * *

Lienilde awoke the next morning to the sound of a knock on the door. She took a brief moment to orient herself after waking up in a place other than her own home, then walked over to the door while running a hand through her tangled, unbound hair. "Yes?" she said as she opened the door, her voice scratchy from sleep.

"I'm sorry to wake you," Anarion answered softly. Lienilde guessed that he had not been awake long either, judging from his ruffled hair. "Vorime is here; my father is speaking with her now."

"Thank you," she replied, and Anarion shut the door and left. She twisted her hair up into a loose knot, and after a quick check to see that Isildur still slept calmly she left to see Vorime.

"How does he fare?" Vorime asked when Lienilde entered the room.

"He awoke again during the night, but otherwise there has been no change," her apprentice answered.

"I see," the master replied. She studied her student closely, seeing the exhaustion in her face. She then walked into Isildur's room and began to examine him, saying nothing. Lienilde was no longer nervous about receiving her master's approval, and was not concerned about Vorime's lack of words -- the healer seldom spoke unless she had to.

"Lienilde," Vorime finally spoke. "You have done well and deserve some rest. How about if you return home and help your mother with the final preparations for your brother' wedding. Until after the wedding, the only duties that I ask you to perform is to check on Isildur once or twice a day."

Lienilde was surprised at Vorime's generous offer, for it would be nearly a week before she resumed her full apprentice duties. "Thank you," she replied, knowing that nothing else needed to be said.

Vorime soon left, and Lienilde explained her plans to Elendil and Anarion. "Thank you so much for helping Isildur," Elendil said after Lienilde was finished. "We are very grateful for all of the effort you have put forth."

"I am honored to help such a heroic man," Lienilde replied, a rush of pride for Isildur filling her heart.

"Just remember that you are welcome here any time," Elendil said. Anarion smiled slightly in agreement.

"Thank you," she answered. "I shall see you tomorrow, then." With that, she turned and began the walk home, her first return home in two days.

* * *

**Notes:**

From what I have read, I do not know if Elendil's wife was alive at the time of this story since Tolkien never mentioned her, so I decided to just omit her rather than adding a new character. (For that matter, I don't know what became of Amandil's wife either.) Plus, I kind of liked the idea of Lienilde being the only female in the house!

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's twelve-year-old brother.


	5. Burdens of the Heart

**Chapter 5: Burdens of the Heart**

The sun warmed her face as Lienilde walked home, though the wind was chill with the first breath of winter. It saddened her to know that autumn had truly arrived and that winter was on its way, for summer was her favorite time of year. But her thoughts did not dwell on the weather long. Though she had spent the last two days with Isildur's family, experiencing long nights and sorrowful times at his bedside, her mind quickly turned to other things now that she was on her way home. She thought of her brother Ardil's upcoming wedding, only five days away. She wondered how her mother was faring with the remaining preparations. Her mother, Melde, was a woman who was often concerned with details and always wanted to be in control at home, yet her heart was still soft toward her children. Ardil was her first child to be married, and Lienilde could only imagine the stress and joy that her mother was now feeling.

It was not long before Lienilde arrived home. Upon opening the door to her house, she was greeted with a flurry of activity. Her twelve-year-old brother, Failon, stood in the center of the front room, flanked on either side by a seamstress. Lienilde recalled that her mother wanted the entire family to wear new clothes to the wedding; Lienilde had been fitted a week prior, and it was apparently Failon's turn now. He currently wore a deep green tunic, the seams still rough, with golden trim loosely pinned to the sleeves and neckline. He was clearly bored with the process, but remained still as the young seamstresses ran circles around him, pinning and cutting threads on all sides and chattering with Melde the entire time. Melde, meanwhile, was quickly pacing through the house, juggling rolls of fabric and baskets of sewing supplies, and spouting instructions at the seamstresses. Lienilde's father and older brother were absent from the scene, and she assumed that they were seeking solace from the hustle in their smithy.

"Lienilde!" Failon was the first to see her enter and called out in greeting, but was unable to escape from his current predicament. Lienilde smiled in reply, but before she could speak her mother dropped her load on a nearby chair and ran over to greet her.

"Lienilde! I'm so glad you are home!" she said, giving her daughter a quick hug. "Are you hungry? Let me fix you something for lunch. Oh, and I will need you to try on your dress while the seamstresses are here; we found the most beautiful fabric and--"

"Mother!" Lienilde exclaimed, already overwhelmed. Quickly lowering her voice back to a normal level, she continued, "I am not hungry, but I have had little sleep the last few days and would love some rest."

"Oh, of course," Melde replied. Now that she took the time to look at her daughter, she could see the exhaustion evident on her face. _What sort of work has that healer made her do?_ she wondered, but said nothing. She would talk with Lienilde about her experience later; right now she knew her daughter needed rest. "Just come out whenever you are ready, and we can try on your dress."

"Thank you," Lienilde replied, and quickly retreated to her room before her mother changed her mind and found some task for her to perform. Before she had time to dwell any more on the wedding planning, she found herself in bed and quickly falling asleep.

* * *

When Lienilde awoke, her room had already grown dim from the setting sun. She deliberately took her time changing into a clean dress and combing out her long hair. Though she still had not bathed in several days, it felt wonderful to be wearing clean clothes and feel soft, untangled hair falling down her back. Pushing the lingering thoughts of Isildur from her mind, she left her room prepared to help her mother with the wedding plans.

The first thing she noticed was that the house was much quieter than it was earlier. The seamstresses had left, though their tools and materials still lay stacked in the corners of the front room. Her father, Mandil, sat by the fireplace whittling on a piece of wood, its final shape still undeterminable. Her brothers were seated nearby on the floor playing a game of chess, and Lienilde could hear her mother singing softly to herself in the kitchen as she prepared dinner. The quiet was a welcome relief to the girl, for she had been expecting to see the family still rushing throughout the house.

"Good morning, Lienilde!" Failon said, with a sparkle in his eye that let her know he was only joking.

"It is good to see you again," Ardil added, looking up from the game for only a moment. Failon was by far the best chess player in the family, and the other family members required intense concentration if they were to have a chance at winning against him. Turning back to the board, Ardil continued, "Mother said you have had a few long days." He paused, and Failon and Mandil both looked at her expectantly, hoping to hear her story.

However, Lienilde did not yet feel like reliving the past few days' experiences. She knew she would have to confront the memories again the next day when she returned to treat Isildur, but for now she simply wanted to spend some time at home with her family. "Yes," she finally answered, "yes I have." Without further explanation, she headed toward the kitchen to help her mother with dinner.

"What do you think happened?" Failon whispered after she had left. "Do you think someone died again?"

"Failon!" Mandil replied sternly. "Please do not speculate. Your sister will tell you what happened when she wants -- if she wants."

"Yes, Father," Failon mumbled, turning back to the chess board. Suddenly his face lit up with a smile as he moved his queen piece. "Check!" Ardil simply sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat.

* * *

Once Lienilde's family realized that she did not wish to talk about the last few days, the conversation at dinner quickly turned to the wedding. Lienilde did not remember her family being so caught up in the wedding planning before she left, and she wondered what had spurred this burst of activity. Perhaps her mother had simply realized that the wedding was only five days away.

After dinner, Melde insisted that Lienilde try on her dress, even though she would just have to try it on again the next day so the seamstresses could adjust the fit. "Just look at this gorgeous fabric," Melde said as she helped Lienilde into the dress. The dress was made of a rich, heavy fabric in a deep red. It had long sleeves and several layers in the skirt to keep her warm during the autumn months; consequently the garment was rather weighty and it was easiest to put on when another was there to help. "Once the fit is right, we will sew some details on the dress using some gold colored thread and silk," Melde continued. "Oh, the color is just beautiful with your dark hair!"

Lienilde finally got a chance to turn around and look into the mirror, and she had to agree with her mother that the dark red did complement her hair and skin. Even the fit was good considering Lienilde had only been measured once for the dress, although it needed to be taken in a little near the neckline. "It is lovely, Mother," Lienilde finally replied. "Thank you for having it made for me."

"Why, you don't need to thank me!" Melde answered, surprised at Lienilde's formalism. "You must look beautiful for your brother's wedding!"

"Of course," said Lienilde, turning around and waiting for her mother to help take the dress off. As Melde began to undo the laces in the back of the dress, she wondered at Lienilde's attitude that evening. Her daughter had been abnormally quiet during dinner, and had barely even smiled when she tried on the dress.

"Lienilde," Melde finally spoke as Lienilde stepped out of the dress. "What is wrong? You have been so quiet today."

"Nothing," replied Lienilde, as she sat down on her bed. "It's just been a long few days."

"I know," Melde answered. It must have been the third time that day that she had heard her daughter use that phrase. "What of your patient? Did he--" she stopped suddenly, not wanting to say the word "die." She too recalled Lienilde's first experience with a dying patient, and wondered what had happened to her daughter at Elendil's house.

"He is alive," the girl answered, anticipating her mother's question.

"What happened to him then?" Melde asked, remembering that Vorime had been very vague the morning she came to fetch Lienilde.

"He was--" she stopped, unsure of what to say. If she said he was attacked, surely her mother would ask more questions. While she did trust her mother with Isildur's secret, she also knew that she could not tell everyone what had happened -- what if her mother told her father, and her father mentioned it at the smithy? She knew that Elendil's family did not want Isildur's deed to become public knowledge, or they would all be in danger. "He is very ill," Lienilde finally answered. "Vorime gave me the rest of the week off from my duties; however, I do need to check on him at least once a day."

"I see," Melde answered. It was obvious that her daughter was not telling her everything; however, seeing that Lienilde was not as distraught as she had been when that first elderly patient died, Melde decided to press no further. She knew that her daughter would talk if she wanted to -- it was a rare occurrence that any of Melde's children kept secrets from her, so close was their relationship.

"In that case, I believe I shall retire now," Melde said, after hanging up her daughter's dress. "I shall wake you in the morning, so you will be up by the time the seamstresses arrive."

"Thank you," Lienilde replied as her mother exited her room. Sitting down on her bed, she wondered if she had made the right decision by not telling her mother about Isildur. She longed to tell someone -- Isildur was such a burden on her heart, and she wished that she had someone whom she could share the burden with. _But I do have someone_, she realized after a moment. _I have Anarion, and Elendil, and even Amandil. And they need me to be strong -- Isildur needs me to be strong!_ The image of Isildur's face suddenly flooded her mind, as she remembered his dark eyes the morning that he awoke. Something about his face still broke her heart, and she soon found herself looking forward to the morrow when she could see him again. For though his injuries brought her much sadness, knowledge of his heroic act in Armenelos filled her with a pride and a hope such that she had not experienced in a long while.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's twelve-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend" (contracted form of Manendil), Lienilde's father.

Author's Note: So far I have tried to post a new chapter each weekend, but for the next two weekends I will be busy with family activities so my updates will not be as regular. Hopefully in January I will be able to return to a more normal schedule!


	6. Awakening

**Chapter 6: Awakening**

The next morning found Lienilde in much the same position that her brother was in the previous day -- standing in the center of the front room, while the seamstresses busied themselves with pinning the golden trim onto her dress. Lienilde stood silently as the two seamstresses and her mother discussed the modifications to her dress:

"Perhaps we should add some additional trim to the ends of the sleeves?"

"Oh, I'm not sure if that is necessary. What if we let out the sleeves a little more, to make them wider?"

"That is a possibility. Now what do you think of the neckline? I pinned it here and here, and I think it fits her a little better now."

"Ah yes, much better. Lienilde, what do you wish to do with the sleeves?"

"Excuse me?" Lienilde had heard her name, but suddenly realized that she had no idea of what had been said previously. Her thoughts had been drifting back toward Isildur all morning. She wondered if he had awoken again, and how his family was faring. She recalled Anarion's close attachment to his brother, and hoped that he might be able to see Isildur awake.

"What would you like us to do with the sleeves?" the seamstress asked, kneeling on the floor and examining the fabric that draped from Lienilde's arm. "We could add some additional trim along the edge, and we could also let them out a little more."

"Whatever you think is best," Lienilde replied. At the moment, she cared little about her dress.

"Oh, all right then," the seamstress said, surprised that the girl had no opinion on her own dress.

Lienilde's gaze then dropped to the floor as she returned to her reverie. Melde stood nearby, studying her daughter. She worried about her change in disposition lately, and decided that if her daughter did not open up to her soon she may have to question her after all. Or perhaps, she thought, she could visit Vorime herself and see what had troubled her daughter so.

* * *

After a quick lunch with her mother and brother (for Ardil and Mandil were at the smithy), Lienilde left to check on Isildur. As she walked to Elendil's house, thoughts of the wedding quickly left her mind as she began to wonder how Isildur was doing. Had he awakened again? Had his fever gone down?

As she walked along the busy city streets, catching glimpses of the ocean in between the houses and shops, she suddenly realized how ironic it was that her thoughts had so quickly turned to Isildur. Just the previous day, as she walked along this same path in the opposite direction she was eager to forget Isildur and focus on the wedding, but now she found it hard to concentrate on the wedding plans when the young man's fate was still uncertain. Although in her mind, little uncertainty remained -- surely Eru would not let such a good deed go unrewarded, surely he would allow Isildur to keep his life! As she thought about it more, she was slightly surprised at her own optimism -- when she had left Elendil's home the previous day, there had been few signs to indicate that Isildur was improving. Yet a spark of hope had flared in her heart while Amandil planted the fruit of Nimloth, and that spark had nearly grown into a flame since then. By the time Lienilde arrived at Elendil's house, a smile had formed on her face as she once again envisioned Isildur's dark grey eyes and strong jaw line.

However, that smile quickly faded when Elendil opened the door for her. It was immediately evident that Elendil and Anarion did not share her hope, and the sorrow she had felt the previous day quickly rushed back to her. But this time she fought the sadness and tried to keep a little hope in her heart, for such sorrow surely would not help Isildur.

"Good morning," she greeted the men, a slight smile flashing across her face then disappearing just as quickly, though it did not go unnoticed by Anarion. Just as Lienilde could sense the two men's despair, Anarion could sense her sudden cheerfulness. He wondered what could have caused her sudden change in disposition, and suspected it was her involvement in the wedding preparations -- surely all girls her age would enjoy the sewing, decorating, and cooking that comes with a wedding. But he had never had a sister or a close female friend, so he could only speculate about the opposite gender.

"Your timing is impeccable," Elendil replied. "We were just going to leave for the shipyards in a few moments."

Lienilde suddenly realized that the men had not visited the shipyards since Isildur came by his injuries. She wondered how they would explain their absence to their fellow shipbuilders, and more importantly, how they would explain Isildur's continued absence. Yet she was also glad that they would be returning to their work; perhaps the sea would help lighten their hearts.

As they walked toward the back of the house, Lienilde asked if Isildur had awakened again. "No," Anarion answered. "I spent most of the night with him, and while he did speak in his sleep he did not fully awake."

Lienilde never replied, but did steal a glance at Anarion at his words. _No wonder he is so depressed!_ she thought. She knew how hard it was to stay awake through the night with Isildur -- hard on both the heart and the body. She also suspected that Anarion had spent the night waiting for his brother to wake up, if just for a moment, and he must have been dismayed when that did not happen, for so far Lienilde was the only one who had seen him awake. She thought back to what she had overheard Anarion say to Isildur, of how he would have accompanied Isildur on his task and even died to protect him, and her heart broke for Anarion as she began to see the full extent of his pain. Surely this bond between the brothers was as strong as any love!

When they arrived in Isildur's room, Lienilde sat at the bedside and put a hand on the wounded man's forehead, hoping for a change in his fever but finding none. With a sigh, she began to change his bandages, a task that she could nearly do in her sleep by now. _If only he would wake up again!_ she thought to herself. _How long can he continue in such a state, sleeping all day, never eating and hardly drinking? How can he find the strength to recover without nourishment?_

Almost as if he had read her thoughts, Isildur began to stir as Lienilde wrapped the last of the bandages. Startled, she took a step back and watched as Anarion cautiously approached the bed. "Isildur?" Anarion asked, kneeling so that his eyes were level with his brother's face. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Can you hear me?"

Lienilde suddenly began to feel embarrassed at overhearing Anarion's display of emotion. She took another step back and glanced away, unconsciously wringing her hands and trying to decide whether there was anything that she needed to do here or if she should just leave. Her mind told her that she should not feel so uncomfortable, for Anarion knew she was standing beside him, but she was reminded of her eavesdropping earlier and her heart began to fill with guilt.

Suddenly, another voice brought her away from her thoughts: a voice that she had only heard twice before, but could recognize without a moment's hesitation. "Yes, brother?" It was Isildur. She snapped her head up to see Anarion catch his breath, not knowing what to say. Elendil immediately stepped forward to join his two sons, with a tear in his eye but also a spark that Lienilde had never before seen. She desperately wanted to leave the brother and father alone, yet somehow through all the emotions flooding her heart she remembered her responsibilities as a healer. She grabbed a cup of tea sitting on a nearby table and stood beside Elendil, unwilling to ruin the moment by speaking. Elendil knew her thoughts and took the cup from her hand, and when she looked up at him he gave her a quick smile. Confident that Isildur would be taken care of, she silently made her way to the door. As she shut the door behind her, she glanced back at the bed one more time, and her heart jumped to see Isildur's eyes staring right into hers.

* * *

Lienilde shut the door to the bedroom and leaned her back against the wall. Her heart was still racing as she recalled all that she had seen and heard in just a moment's time: Anarion and Elendil's joy upon Isildur's awakening; Isildur's voice, weak from illness yet with an underlying strength; and finally his eyes, his grey eyes, piercing Lienilde as if he were trying to tell her something. _No, that is silly!_ Lienilde thought. _What could he want to tell me? He doesn't even know me -- why, I doubt he even remembers my name since he was barely awake when I told him!_ Her heartbeat began to slow as she tried to rationalize away her emotions, though she could not deny that she had felt something unexplainable when Isildur looked at her. She tried to convince herself that she was overreacting, and had nearly succeeded when Isildur's door opened several moments later.

Elendil and Anarion stood beside her, no one speaking for a moment. "He is resting now," Elendil finally spoke, handing Lienilde the cup of tea, now empty. "Thank you." He said no more, and Lienilde knew he was thanking her not only for her care of Isildur, but also for allowing the two men some time alone with their son and brother. She realized that this time, as she stood outside the door she had not heard a word that was said while they were with Isildur, so caught up was she in her own thoughts. She nearly smiled as the guilt that had ridden her heart quickly left.

"Well," Lienilde began, hating to break the moment but not wanting to stand there forever, "I suppose that is all I can do for now. Perhaps I can stop by again tomorrow evening?"

"That would be fine," Elendil replied, and Lienilde made her way to the door. As she left the house, she could not help but notice the smile that now filled Anarion's face and the peace evident in his eyes. She knew then that just like her, the young man had finally found hope.

* * *

As Lienilde walked home, her step was light and her heart full with an energy she had not felt for several days. The weather that day only served to lighten her heart even more -- the wind was cool but not cold, and the midday sun shone brightly and sparkled off the sea below. The harbor town was now fully awake, with children running outside to take advantage of these last beautiful days before the winter, and shopkeepers peddling their wares and chatting with their neighbors. Lienilde suddenly laughed out loud, ignoring the glances from a few of the nearby children -- it was if a weight was suddenly lifted from her heart, and all she wanted to do was dance in the sun all day long. On an impulse, she suddenly turned to her right and began walking, nearly skipping, down to the beach.

The beach was empty that day, though the nearby harbor was already alive with life. Tossing her shoes aside, Lienilde began to dance and jump through the loose sand, though she never strayed too close to the waves, knowing that the water was cold this time of year. After a few moments her burst of energy wore off and she lay on her back in the sand, content to be still and absorb the warmth of the sun. As her breathing slowed to a more normal rate, she began to realize how silly she must have looked, prancing around in the sand like a child. But it had been such a release -- she had been so exhausted, mentally and physically, over the last few days that she just needed a moment to forget her troubles and play like a child. After all, it was not long ago that she was a child herself.

She knew not how long she lay there, her thoughts everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She thought briefly about Isildur, and Anarion, and her brother's wedding, but no thought stayed in her mind for any length of time. She was tired of thinking, tired of feeling, and so she just let her mind empty as she lay in the sun-warmed sand.

After several long moments, a soft breeze began to blow across the sea. She felt a fine mist of saltwater touch her face, and she reluctantly opened her eyes and sat up. A single white cloud floated across the sky while others loomed on the horizon, and as the cloud momentarily blocked the sun's rays Lienilde realized that it was time for her to return home. She stood up and suddenly saw what a mess she was -- sand covered her feet, her skirts, and even her hair. As she made her way to the grass beside the beach to look for her shoes, she tried to brush off the sand but knew it was useless. Only a long bath would get all the dirt out of her hair. She wiped her feet off as best she could, then put on her shoes and began the long uphill hike towards home.

* * *

When she returned home, Lienilde was met with much the same flurry of activity as the day before; however, this time it was Ardil who was the center of the seamstresses' attention. "You look very fine today!" Lienilde told her brother as she entered the house. The groom wore a tunic and pants made of white and silver, in a much more finished condition than Lienilde and Failon's half-sewn outfits. Ardil smiled in reply -- clearly he was enjoying the fitting, in contrast to his younger brother the day before.

"I do, don't I?" he replied, only half jokingly. Lienilde knew that her brother had never worn finer clothes, and the thought of dressing up for his love and marrying her in one day must have been exciting for him.

"Lienilde!" Lienilde's smile quickly faded when she heard her mother's harsh screech in her ear -- she did not know how Melde managed to get so close to her without hearing her approach. "You are filthy! I wanted you to try on your dress again, but you would simply soil it in the condition you are in! What have you been doing?"

"I'm sorry, mother," Lienilde replied, unsure of what to say. She did not even know herself exactly what had possessed her to go running across the shore -- it was just a combination of her pent-up emotions and the powerful call of the sea. "I, um, I took a little detour to the beach."

"Well that much is evident," Melde replied, her voice softer and a smile appearing on her lips. When Melde had first seen Lienilde, she had forgotten about her daughter's saddened disposition earlier that morning and was simply upset at her dirty skirts and hair, but now she sensed that whatever had been troubling Lienilde was gone. If it took a run across the beach to make her daughter happy, she would not complain. "You can try on your dress tomorrow; the seamstresses will already be here to fit me. For now, how about if I draw you a bath."

"That would be lovely," Lienilde replied, giving her brother one last smile before retreating to her room to change clothes.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's twelve-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.


	7. Inquisition

**Chapter 7: Inquisition**

The next morning Lienilde found herself seated in the front room, watching the seamstresses fuss over her mother while waiting her own turn. Melde's dress was similar to Lienilde's, but made of a rich blue fabric. Lienilde had noticed that everyone in the family would be wearing a dark-colored outfit with golden trim for the wedding, with the exception of Ardil. Lienilde's dress was a dark red, Failon's clothes were deep green, and her father's were a mahogany brown.

This morning Ardil's betrothed, Inzil, came to watch the fittings, and thus Ardil stayed home rather than going to the smithy. Lienilde glanced over at her soon-to-be sister-in-law, her fingers loosely entwined with Ardil's. Inzil was a petite girl, four years Lienilde's elder, with shiny blonde hair indicative of her Hadorian heritage. Lienilde had always envied Inzil's hair, for her own was wavy and often looked unkempt even though she tried to keep it combed. Lienilde's family was descended from the Houses of Beor and Haleth and she had inherited the dark hair common to both houses.

Lienilde had never spent a lot of time with Inzil, and thus had never received the chance to become close friends with her. Ardil had invited Inzil over for dinner several times, but otherwise Lienilde seldom saw the girl. She knew that Inzil had never had an apprenticeship, but rather had stayed at home to help her mother with the three younger children in the house, which included a pair of particularly mischievous twin boys. Lienilde wondered how Inzil's mother would survive without her after the wedding; the one time Lienilde had been to her house, the children had spent the entire time running in and out the house, often screaming as they played.

"Your dress is lovely," Inzil complimented Melde, pulling Lienilde from her musings. Lienilde glanced up and smiled; her mother's dress was nearly complete and did fit her wonderfully. In fact, the seamstresses hoped to finish the entire family's clothes by the next day, and Lienilde looked forward to the time that their front room would finally be free of activity. However, she quickly remembered, once the clothing was finished they would have to start preparing the food for the party after the wedding, and she knew that her mother would recruit her help. She suppressed a sigh, not exactly looking forward to spending three straight days in the kitchen with her mother, for she knew Melde would only become more excited and stressed as the wedding approached.

"It is beautiful," Lienilde added after a moment, and her mother beamed with the compliments she was receiving.

"Thank you, dears," Melde replied. "But enough about me; let us see your dress, Lienilde!"

With that, Melde and Lienilde retreated to their bedrooms, each with a seamstress in tow to help them dress. Lienilde was surprised to find her dress completed, and once she tried it on the seamstress agreed that it should need no more alterations. She then made her way to the front room to show Inzil and Ardil.

"Why, your dress is stunning!" Inzil exclaimed, and Lienilde could not help but blush slightly at Inzil's enthusiastic comments. She wondered if the girl was being genuine or whether she was exaggerating, but Lienilde soon decided she did not care and enjoyed the compliments either way. "You are all going to look just lovely at the wedding!" Inzil continued.

"You are gorgeous, Little Lien," Ardil agreed, and Lienilde smiled at the use of her childhood nickname. She had been rather small for the first decade of her life, but the name had persisted (though was not used as frequently) even after she had reached normal height.

"Thank you," Lienilde replied. Before she could say more, a strong knock sounded on the door and her mother went to answer it. Lienilde was surprised to see Vorime standing there -- she had actually been so caught up in the fittings that she had forgotten about her apprenticeship. Of course she had not planned on visiting Isildur until the evening, but this morning was probably the first time that she had been able to push Isildur completely from her mind.

Vorime smiled to see Lienilde standing in the center of the room, showing off her new attire. "You look lovely, my dear," the healer said, and Lienilde blushed once again, surprised to hear such comments from her normally taciturn master. "When you are finished, would you be able to come with me and visit your patient?" she continued.

"Of course," Lienilde answered, "just give me a moment to change."

* * *

It was not long before healer and apprentice were walking toward Elendil's house. "How was Isildur the last time you saw him?" Vorime asked.

"I visited him yesterday morning. His wounds are just beginning to heal, though his fever remains. He did awake for a few moments and drink some tea."

"Very good," Vorime said. "He still has a long road to recovery, but I am glad he is showing signs of improvement."

_So am I_, Lienilde thought silently. Remembering yesterday's events, she said, "Elendil and Anarion spent yesterday at the shipyards, so they may not be home right now. I had forgotten until now."

"I spoke with Amandil and he will be staying with Isildur," Vorime said. "In fact, he sat with him yesterday as well."

"I did not know that," Lienilde replied, though she was glad to hear that Isildur was not alone all day yesterday. _Why did I not think of that yesterday? It had not even occurred to me that he would be alone all day! Were my emotions so strong yesterday that I couldn't even think of such an obvious thing?_ These thoughts combined with how she had forgotten about Isildur that morning made Lienilde feel a little guilty. _Shouldn't I be taking better care of my patient? He is still seriously ill, after all! And what about my vow -- my vow that first night I stayed with him, that I would do everything I could to help him! Can I even say that I have kept my word? Have I really done everything I could?_

Before Lienilde's thoughts could continue, they arrived at Elendil's house. She quickly put her guilt aside, replacing it with a newfound determination. _I will not let such frivolous things as the wedding distract me again!_ She did not stop to think that whenever she was with Isildur, she was completely focused; but for some reason, right now she felt guilty just for not thinking about him even while she was at home.

Amandil answered the door and led the women to Isildur's room. "It is good to see you again," Amandil said to Lienilde with a slight, knowing smile. She knew that he was recalling the last time he had seen her: the day they planted the seed of Nimloth. She felt her heartbeat increase slightly at the memories of that day.

Vorime did not stay long. She changed Isildur's bandages and agreed with Lienilde's earlier assessment of his health. She did not say whether she had hope for Isildur's continued improvement, but Lienilde could see that the despair evident in her eyes that first day was now gone. When Vorime was finished, she told Amandil that they should keep a pot of soup over the fire, so that the next time Isildur woke he could have some nourishment besides simply tea.

"Now I must leave to see another patient," Vorime said, then turning toward Lienilde, "I trust you can walk yourself home?"

"Of course," the apprentice answered. Vorime then departed, but Lienilde lingered for a moment.

"You seem rather preoccupied this morning," Amandil said after a short silence.

Lienilde glanced up at the old man. How could he sense what she was thinking? Was she really that obvious?

"I..." she began, then paused, not really sure how to explain her thoughts or if she even wanted to. "I guess I am not sure that I have done everything for Isildur that I could."

"Nonsense!" Amandil said with a smile, though his eyes showed that he was not merely joking. "You stayed with him day and night, and now you visit him at least once daily even though his condition does not seem to be changing. You have hardly slept for all the work you have done! Isildur is in good care; do not fault yourself for taking some time to rest."

Lienilde smiled and glanced away, reassured by his words. She had been unreasonably harsh with herself that morning, knowing that few healers would have invested the time with a patient that she had; perhaps Isildur was still taking more of a toll on her emotions than she realized. Yet she still found it difficult to find the right balance between her two conflicting thoughts: concern for Isildur, and a focus on her personal life. Sacrificing one would only hurt either her or Isildur -- or both of them.

"So tell me," Amandil then asked, "how go the wedding preparations?"

Lienilde glanced up, surprised at the change in subject, especially since Amandil was normally not one for small talk. Did he perhaps realize that she did not really care to elaborate further on her feelings toward Isildur? "It is going well," she answered. "The seamstresses are just now finishing everyone's attire, and I believe we will start preparing the food tomorrow since the wedding is now three days away. Of course the bride's family will also be helping with the food."

"I see," Amandil said. His eyes wandered upward, above Lienilde's head, and she wondered what was on his mind as he paused for a moment. "When I was young, weddings were different." He smiled and brought his eyes back to her face. "We still made all the same preparations, of course -- sewing, cooking, gathering flowers... But the weddings themselves were different. The ceremonies were performed in the Elven tongue, and always with a long prayer to the Valar to bless the marriage. We have ... we have gotten away from that in the past several decades, and I find it a shame." Amandil's face saddened at this last thought.

"I did not realize that," Lienilde mumbled, feeling rather awkward and not knowing what else to say. She knew that Numenorean culture had abandoned many Elvish influences, but being young she was familiar only with the way things were at the present and had never stopped to mourn the changes of the isle. It had never occurred to her that there were those who knew Numenor when it was different, and still longed for the olden days.

"Well," said Amandil, "you should probably be on your way, rather than standing here listening to an old man's musings." He knew that Lienilde had not known how to reply to his thoughts, but he did not regret his words -- Lienilde was young and naïve, but he saw in her a strong heart and longed for her to learn more of the ways of the Faithful. Surely she did not fully realize the depths to which Numenor had fallen, and as the isle continued to deteriorate he did not want to see the young woman fall with it.

"Thank you," Lienilde replied. "When Elendil and Anarion return, please tell them to have some soup ready should Isildur wake again."

"Of course," Amandil said. "Oh, and there is one more thing, I had nearly forgotten." He reached into his pocket, rummaged around for a brief moment, and pulled out a bronze key. "Here is a key to the house, so that you may check on Isildur at any time. I fear he will be slow to recover, and one of us may not always be able to stay with him. Saddened as we are by his condition, we still have other businesses to attend to -- secrets of the Faithful, and work in the shipyards, ere others begin to ask questions about our absence. It will soon be well known that Isildur is ill; however, you understand that the nature of his injuries cannot be made public."

"Yes, sir," Lienilde politely replied, taking the key from Amandil's open hand. She wondered at the "secrets of the Faithful", but did not question the old man further -- she knew that he was a former advisor of the King and that he was well aware of the goings-on in Armenelos, the capital city of Numenor. After all, it was his knowledge of Sauron's intentions that had prompted Isildur to travel to Armenelos himself. Thus she simply left without another word, leaving Amandil alone with his ailing grandson and her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Lienilde's thoughts remained on Isildur's actions in Armenelos as she slowly walked home. Dark clouds were slowly filling the sky, heralding an afternoon storm, but Lienilde hardly noticed. She had mulled over Isildur's deed much in the last few days, and her thoughts today were no different than on the previous day. Whenever she thought of his deed she always felt a twinge of pride for the young man, similar to how she would feel if her brother or father had performed some equally heroic deed -- but why she felt this way toward Isildur, a man she hardly knew, and had not even spoken more than a few words to, she did not know. She had often wondered why her feelings toward Isildur were so strong, and why the sound of his name or the memory of his face brought so many unbidden emotions to her heart. But as of late she had simply accepted her feelings and had ceased trying to explain them. They were, after all, just feelings, and everyone knew that the human heart was far from logical. However, she could not help but wonder if Isildur had been brought into her life for a greater purpose -- or were her emotions simply a reaction to his gruesome injuries? _Or perhaps I am just over thinking everything_, she finally concluded, and tried to push the thoughts from her mind as she climbed the last hill to her home.

As she approached her home, she was surprised to see an unfamiliar horse standing outside the house, waiting for his master. Coming closer, she saw the emblem of the King on the horse's saddle, and suddenly her heart nearly stopped and her feet faltered. _The King's Men!_ she thought. Have they learned of Isildur's deed? Do they know I have helped him -- are they here to arrest me? She stood still for a moment, hoping that the King's Man -- who must have been in her house -- did not see her hesitation through the windows. She soon realized that she could not stand outside forever, and even if the King's Man had such evil intentions for her, she knew she could not run and hide from him forever, either. She would have to enter the house and confront him. _But there is still a possibility that he does not know everything_, she suddenly realized, _for if he did, surely there would have been men at Isildur's house!_ With that thought to strengthen her heart, she slowly stepped forward and opened the door.

The scene inside would not have been frightening to anyone but her: a single man, clad in the raiment of the King's Men, sat calmly at the kitchen table conversing with her mother. While she could not hear what they were saying, Melde did not seem fearful or even overly concerned. Failon stood quietly off to the side, fidgeting and wondering when the guest would leave.

As soon as she entered the house, the conversation died and the King's Man rose to greet her. "Hello," he said, "I assume you are Lienilde, apprentice to the healer Vorime?"

"I am," Lienilde managed to answer, hoping her voice did not betray her fear. While she doubted that the man would be so polite if he were there to arrest her, she still had no doubt that his presence was related to Isildur's deed.

"May I speak with you outside?" he then asked. Lienilde agreed and followed him out the door. She glanced over her shoulder at her family as she left: she could not read the expression on her mother's face, but her brother was staring at her with a wide-eyed curiosity.

"Lienilde," the man said once they were outside. "I just have a few questions that I hope you can answer for me."

Lienilde wrapped her cloak tightly around herself, partly to keep out the cool wind, and partly to give her nervous hands something to hold on to. Her heart was beating so hard that she swore the man could see it jumping beneath her dress, if she had not hid it with the cloak. "Of course, sir," she answered, praying that she still sounded calm. However, it became clear to her that the King did not know as much as she had at first feared, and this brought her some comfort.

"During the past week, have you treated any patients with arrow wounds? Or other wounds that could have come from a weapon, such as a sword?"

"I have not," Lienilde lied, and her untruth did nothing to slow her heartbeat. She had not lied since she was a child, and even that was over something so silly she no longer remembered it, and she cringed with guilt to be telling such a blatant lie now. (Though she forgot for a moment that the way she hid Isildur's true condition from her family could be considered a lie by some.) Yet at the same time, she knew it was the right thing: she had little doubt that Sauron would have Isildur put to death if he discovered his deed. Sauron already hated the Faithful, and the line of the Lords of Adunie in particular. He needed little excuse to arrest and execute them. "However," Lienilde went on, "my master did treat a ten-year-old boy who was shot by an arrow in a hunting accident with his brother."

The man's face remained expressionless, and suddenly she feared that he did not believe her lie. "That is what your master said, when I spoke with her on my way to your house." Lienilde glanced up, surprised that he had managed to speak to Vorime in the short amount of time that had passed since Vorime had left Isildur's home--Lienilde must have taken more time than she realized lingering with Amandil and walking home. She was suddenly very thankful that the King's Man had not found her master at Isildur's home, for the timing was certainly close. The man then continued, "We are trying to catch a fugitive from Armenelos, who was wounded by arrow and sword ere he escaped. If you see such a man, inform one of the King's Men as soon as you can. Do not try to speak to him, for he is very dangerous: he seriously wounded one of the King's guards during his escape, and it is not certain that the guard will survive the attack."

Lienilde's heart jumped again -- if that was even possible considering how fast it was already beating -- when the man said that Isildur had nearly killed a guard. She did not doubt that it was for his own protection, but it still shocked her to hear that the man she admired so much had nearly murdered another -- and may yet still, if the man dies. "Of course," she answered.

"I will not keep you any more, then," he said, still oblivious to Lienilde's nervousness. "Thank you for your time."

"You are welcome, sir," she replied, as the man turned and climbed up on his horse. He rode away without another word.

Lienilde stood outside for a moment, letting her heartbeat slow in the cold, quiet air. She prayed that the man had not seen her fear -- for if he had, he certainly had not reacted to it. She finally decided that regardless of what he knew or had guessed, there was nothing more she could do about it now, so she returned to the house.

Melde and Failon were still in the kitchen, quietly chatting while they waited for Lienilde and the King's Man to return. As soon as Failon could see that his sister had returned alone without the man, he ran up to her and asked, "What did he want?"

"Nothing that I could help him with," Lienilde said, a smile finally coming over her lips as she saw Failon's excitement. She was thankful now that she had not told her family about Isildur, for they had no reason to share her fear today, and she did not need to worry about them unintentionally sharing her secret. "It seems that he is hunting an injured fugitive from Armenelos."

"And he thinks this fugitive traveled all the way to Romenna?" Melde asked.

"I suppose," she answered. "He did not rightly say: he only asked me if I had treated any men with an arrow wound. Which I had not," she quickly added.

"I see," Melde said. After a short pause, she turned and walked toward the pantry, saying, "In that case, I was just about to start baking the bread for the wedding celebration before he arrived. Please, come help!"

Despite her lingering fear from the inquisition and her earlier reluctance to cook, Lienilde could not help but smile at her mother's enthusiasm. With a smile on her own face, she quickly walked toward the kitchen and began measuring flour per her mother's instruction. She spent the rest of the day with her mother and Failon in the kitchen, and as she expected it was rather hectic as her mother fired off instructions to her children, but also a joyful time to spend with some of her family. Yet the fear of the visit from the King's Man never fully left her mind.

* * *

**Notes:**

I could not find any information about weddings in Numenor, so if this chapter or the next conflicts with any of Tolkien's writings I apologize! However, I do think it is at least possible that the ceremonies were originally performed in an Elvish language. And while Tolkien never gave Amandil's birth date, some Internet sources estimate his birth date to be about one hundred years before the King forbid the use of Elvish languages. So I thought it was possible that either Amandil himself, or at least his parents, were married in a more Elvish-influenced ceremony!

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's twelve-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's betrothed.


	8. A Brother’s Wedding

**Chapter 8: A Brother's Wedding**

The next two days passed quickly. Lienilde and the rest of her family stayed busy preparing the last of the food while the seamstresses stopped by for a few final fittings. Lienilde managed to find time each evening to visit Isildur, but the visits were always rather quick since her assistance was needed at home. Isildur did not always awake while Lienilde was with him, though Elendil told her that he awoke at least once each day and took a little soup.

Amandil did say that the King's Men had spoken to him on the day after the man visited with Lienilde, but otherwise they heard nothing of Sauron's search for the intruder. As the days passed with no further news, they began to feel confident that the search had not provided any leads, though they were still very careful to keep Isildur's condition secret. However, Lienilde had to make a conscious effort to not quicken her steps whenever she passed a King's Man on the road, and she prayed that they never noticed her fear.

Lienilde often thought of the injured palace guard during those two days. She never heard whether he had survived his injuries, but she suspected that he had -- for if he had died, surely the search for his attacker would be doubled. Yet she could not shake the image of the unknown guard lying in bed, suffering from his wounds, no different from her patient Isildur. Did he have a family to wait at his bedside in worry like Isildur? What had he been thinking when he fought off his attacker? Since she had first learned of Isildur's deed, she had unconsciously come to think of the King and his men as the enemy; but now her healer's heart wondered how two Numenoreans--two of the Edain--could have been pitted against each other so. Had Numenor fallen so far that its noble citizens must now slay one another to protect their beliefs?

Yet coming home to her family each night and seeing the joy on Ardil's face as his wedding day approached made it difficult for Lienilde to dwell on such dark thoughts for long. She soon realized that her musings did little good; all she could do was to continue to care for her patient.

Thus the day of the wedding soon arrived. Ardil and Inzil were rather fortunate, for the day was warm and sunny, unusually so for this time of year -- and as they were to soon learn, it was to be the last such warm day of the season. Lienilde's family arose early that day to carry the food to the beach, the location of the ceremony and party, as was custom in Romenna. Inzil's family brought tables for the food, for her father was a carpenter, and dried flowers, berries, and greenery to adorn the tables and the corner of the beach where the ceremony would take place. Lienilde and her brothers spent much of the morning carrying goods from their house to the shore, while Melde and Mandil stayed at the beach and helped organize the efforts. Vorime had agreed to check on Isildur that day, so Lienilde was able to devote the entire day to the wedding.

Once everything had been carried to the beach, the bride, groom, and their immediate families returned home to dress while some friends and distant relatives stayed to help finish the preparations on the shore. Lienilde's household was near frantic, as her mother rushed from room to room to make sure everyone was dressed perfectly, while Ardil tried desperately to calm his mother down. Lienilde could tell that her older brother was already nervous about the upcoming ceremony and did not want his mother to add to his stress. Finally, Melde slowed down as she retreated to Lienilde's room to do her daughter's hair. The men soon returned to the beach, leaving Lienilde and Melde alone in the house.

"You have so much hair!" Melde cried in exasperation, "It will take forever to braid it all!"

Lienilde smiled, for her mother could not see her face. Lienilde had recommended that some friends do her hair and her mother's hair to save time, but Melde had insisted on doing her daughter's hair herself.

"You need not braid it all," Lienilde answered. "Why not just braid the top half and pin it up, and let the rest fall down?"

"I may have to," Melde agreed, frustration evident in her voice. "But I had so hoped to have it all braided up! You always look so pretty with your hair up."

"It will be fine, Mother," Lienilde answered. "Besides, no one will even notice my hair -- they will be looking at the beautiful dress you had made for me!"

At this Melde finally smiled. "You may be right, dear." They then sat for several moments in silence, as Melde concentrated on pinning the plaits into elaborate patterns on her daughter's head. When she was finished, she then added a few stems of dried red berries to Lienilde's dark braids, complementing her dress. It was much too late in the year for flowers to be in bloom, so berries and leaves were the main decorations used for the wedding.

"It is lovely, Mother," Lienilde said after seeing her hair in a mirror. "Now sit, let me do your hair!"

Lienilde had practiced her mother's hairstyle the previous day so she already knew exactly what to do. Her mother's hair was thinner, and Lienilde twisted it into larger plaits, so it was not long before all of her mother's hair was braided and pinned up on her head, also adorned with a few berries and leaves.

"Now we are both beautiful," Lienilde said, handing her mother a small mirror. "What do you think?"

"Wonderful, thank you dear!" Melde, apparently slightly calmer than earlier, stood up and gave her daughter a quick hug. Then picking up her skirts, she promptly made her way toward the door. "Come! The ceremony will start soon! I hope your cousins laid out the food properly!"

Lienilde simply smiled and followed her mother in silence, as Melde continued to fret as they walked down to the shoreline.

* * *

The ceremony was short and simple, as was the modern custom in Numenor. Lienilde, normally not one to cry at such things, did shed a tear or two as her brother expressed his love for his bride. She could not help but wonder if she would ever feel such a love herself -- she had said earlier that she did not want to marry anytime soon, but seeing the bond between Ardil and Inzil made her feel as if she was missing out on some incredible joy unknown to her.

Her mother, however, practically bawled through the entire ceremony, while Mandil remained dry-eyed, although Lienilde could see the emotion in her father's eyes. Even Failon appeared caught up in the ceremony.

Soon the ceremony was over, and as the sun drew low in the sky the guests scattered across the beach. Weddings were public affairs in Numenor, and much of the harbor town was on the beach that night -- some to share in Ardil and Inzil's joy, others simply to have fun dancing with the other guests. Some stood in small circles chatting and eating, while others danced with groups of friends or alone with their beloveds. Melde finally seemed to calm down after the ceremony, and was content to sample the food and talk with the guests. Ardil and Inzil danced for the first several dances, then began to walk through the crowds greeting the guests with a plate of food in their hands -- they knew if they sat down to eat, they would be accosted by many congratulating friends and family.

Lienilde spent much of the time conversing with several of her female cousins, and joining in a few dances with friends. She realized that it had been a long time since she had last spoken to some of her family, and enjoyed the chance to see them again and catch up on lost time. Most of her cousins had never had an apprenticeship and were eager to hear about hers, and while Lienilde entertained them with some of the more light-hearted stories of her work, she avoided discussing the patients who had passed on and never mentioned Isildur -- she had enjoyed herself for most of the day and did not want to ruin her good times with sad thoughts.

As the evening went on her cousins dispersed to talk with other guests or to dance, and Lienilde soon found herself standing alone in the sand near the edge of the crowd. She glanced around and saw a lone figure standing at the water's edge, and tried to discern who it was. But it was growing dark and torches were only lit near the food and the musicians, so Lienilde could not make out the guest's face. The man then turned away from her -- for Lienilde could tell the figure was not wearing a skirt and thus must be a man -- which only perplexed her more. Setting her drink next to several other empty glasses, she made her way toward him.

"Good evening, sir," she said as she came within conversational distance of the man. He finally turned, and she was surprised to see it was Anarion -- she had not seen him earlier that night; in fact, she had not seen any of his family at the wedding.

"Hello, Lienilde," he said softly, and though it was dark, Lienilde could see that he looked rather distracted, if not actually saddened. Her first instinct was to fear for Isildur, but she quickly realized that if Isildur's condition had worsened, his brother would not have left his side simply to come to a wedding party, even if Inzil was a friend of his.

"Anarion," she said, "what is wrong? Do you not enjoy the party?"

"Oh, it is a lovely party, and your family did a wonderful job," Anarion said, and Lienilde could see he was simply being polite. Something else was on his mind.

"Thank you," she replied. She wondered if she should continue, for it almost seemed as if he did not want to talk; but rather or not she should have spoken, she did so anyway: "Anarion, something troubles you. What is it?"

"I would rather not say," he answered, avoiding her gaze. "I do not wish to bring ill tidings to a wedding."

"But it is not my wedding, and we are alone. I am simply concerned for you."

"Thank you," he answered. "It is just ..." he paused, and Lienilde waited quietly. Finally Anarion blurted out his thoughts in one rushed statement: "My grandfather has heard that Ar-Pharazon has finally cut down Nimloth, and that Sauron has begun building a temple to Melkor. A temple!" Anarion's voice rose at that last statement. Lienilde glanced around, relieved to see that none of the guests seemed to have noticed.

"Anarion--" she began, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She felt his skin tense at her touch and for an instant she wondered what had compelled her to hold his hand, but as his hand relaxed she forgot about it and wondered what else she should say to him. She did not yet comprehend the depth of his news and simply wished to comfort the young man.

"Lienilde," Anarion said softly, taking a slight step toward her, but keeping his face turned toward the sand. "I am sorry. I should not burden you with this news, not on the day of your brother's wedding. I do not even know why I came tonight; I should have just stayed home with Isildur and my father--"

"It is all right," she answered, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "I am glad you told me; such news will not affect my happiness for my brother." Anarion looked up at her, his expression calming as he realized that he had not upset her as he feared. "Besides," she continued, her voice also soft, "now we know that Isildur's plight has not been in vain."

"That is true," he said simply, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. Then suddenly, he let go of her hand and drew her into his arms, resting his cheek against her hair. Lienilde was rather surprised, but soon relaxed and lightly wrapped her arms around his waist. "You are a good friend, Lienilde. I could not wish for a better healer for my brother."

Now it was Lienilde's turn to be overcome with emotion at the other's words. "Thank you," said she, still clinging to his waist, "but I--" She suddenly stopped, decided that anything she could say would simply ruin the moment. Somehow she knew that they both understood each other, and no more words were needed. After a moment, they slowly released each other as if in one accord.

"I--" Lienilde began, "I should go. My friends are probably wondering where I am--"

"Of course," Anarion replied, the emotion already gone from his voice, though not from his heart. Yet Lienilde lingered just a moment more, and soon they became aware of a change in the music across the beach. The tune had slowed, and it seemed to reflect their mood at the moment, as if the musicians had known what had transpired between the two young people at the water's edge.

"How about a dance before you leave?"

Lienilde smiled nervously, surprised by Anarion's offer. "I suppose," she answered. "But just one. It is late, and I wish to see my friends off before they leave."

Anarion simply smiled, and took her hand and led to her the crowd dancing on the beach. It seemed that many of the guests were getting weary of talk and had turned to dancing. Even though Lienilde and Anarion were surrounded by dancers, they ignored the crowd, each deep in their own thoughts as they danced slowly. It was during that dance that Lienilde first began to realize how terrible Anarion's news really was, though for now she did not wish to dwell on such thoughts; rather, she once again thought of Isildur's sacrifice and her heart swelled with pride.

The dancers nearby glanced at the silent young couple and wondered at their thoughts -- the young man with a sad, yet content look on his face; the girl in the red dress and a smile on her face.

* * *

When the dance was over, Anarion returned home with only a polite farewell to Lienilde. Lienilde stood alone for a moment, still trying to take in all that had happened. She had enjoyed the dance, but what had surprised her most was that she had not been thinking about her dancing partner -- her thoughts were on an injured young man with deep grey eyes, asleep in a dark room in the back of his house.

"Lienilde!" The young healer nearly jumped, so startled was she to hear her name while she was deep in thought. She turned to see two of her cousins running toward her: Serme and Vanye. The two girls were approximately Lienilde's age, though Serme was a little younger and Vanye a little older.

"Who was that lovely young man you were dancing with?" Serme asked, a huge grin across her face. Vanye was also smiling, and Lienilde knew what they were thinking: her brother had found love, so surely her time would come soon!

"He is just a friend -- the brother of one my patients," Lienilde replied, though she immediately regretted the last phrase. _Please do not ask about Isildur!_ she silently begged her cousins.

"Just a friend, eh?" Serme continued with a giggle. "Well, I think he is smitten with you!" Lienilde resisted the urge to roll her eyes; while she usually enjoyed Serme's company, the girl was quickly becoming obnoxious. Lienilde had no desire to explain what had actually happened between her and Anarion that night.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Serme, but he is truly just a friend," Lienilde retorted, a little more harshly than she meant.

Serme looked rather surprised at her cousin's denial, but Vanye gave Lienilde an understanding smile. Vanye had been in a similar situation herself earlier that year, when she had been accused of falling in love with a young man she had known since childhood. "Please forgive my sister," Vanye said, and Serme looked up at her, clearly disappointed that Vanye was not helping her to interrogate Lienilde. "Come, Serme," Vanye continued, placing a hand on her sister's back. "Let us find our friend Callo and greet him before he leaves."

Serme's face suddenly lit up and she turned to follow her sister. Lienilde wondered if Serme had feelings for this Callo, and could not help but smile as she watched her cousins leave, though she was still a little agitated at how Serme had interrupted her thoughts. She glanced around the crowd and noticed that several of the guests had left; it would probably not be long before everyone had retired home and she would be forced to stay behind and help clean up after the party. Lienilde sighed; it would be a long night. Seeing Failon near the food tables, she made her way toward her brother: at least they could have a little fun before their mother put them to work.

* * *

Lienilde, Failon, and some of their friends participated in the last few dances, but once the musicians left the guests quickly began to go home. By this point the sun had set several hours before, and Lienilde was already tiring from their long day but obediently followed her mother's orders and helped gather the leftover food (what little there was) and the refuse scattered across the sands. It was late in the night before the family finally returned home to retire, though Ardil of course was absent: he had taken his bride to their new home, a small house near the smithy.

Lienilde was grateful for the chance to finally rest, but as she lay in her bed she found that she could not immediately fall asleep. Her thoughts returned to Anarion's tidings. She was not terribly surprised that the King had cut down Nimloth, for that is why Isildur traveled to Armenelos in the first place, but it was still a shock to hear that the ancient symbol of the kings was gone. She remembered that Amandil had said that the fate of the line of Elros was tied closely to the White Tree of Numenor, and for the first time she began to wonder what was in Numenor's future and began to fear the wrath of the Valar. For surely they would not allow such a deed to go unpunished! But what of the Faithful -- would they suffer the same fate as the rest of isle, or would the Valar offer them grace? And to hear that Sauron was building a temple to Melkor -- that shocked her even more than the news of Nimloth. She knew that many of the people of Numenor, especially those outside of Romenna, had begun to worship Melkor -- but to build an actual temple seemed like even more of an abomination. And if Sauron was commissioning the temple, surely the King approved of it. Would the King begin to force the people of the isle to follow him in worship at the temple? What of the Faithful, of those that refused?

She suddenly realized that as she had been thinking about the Faithful, she had counted herself among their numbers. Was she really one of the Faithful? She despised the worship of Melkor -- even before hearing Amandil's story, she knew enough about the history of Numenor and Middle-Earth to know something of Melkor's evil -- but even so, she did not actively worship Eru, either. Her father had taught her some of the Faithful's beliefs, but not enough that she felt very knowledgeable in the subject. Was hating Melkor reason enough to be counted among the Faithful? What about her thoughts on death? During the past year, she had begun to doubt her childhood beliefs that death was the Gift of Man after seeing several dying patients and their grieving families. She could not understand how a Gift could cause so much sadness and despair. Yet she knew that Amandil and his family believed that death was a Gift, even though they had been worried about Isildur's fate. But how could that be? How could they fear something that was supposed to be good? It seemed that even the most devoted of the Faithful were susceptible to Sauron's lies. She suddenly realized that perhaps her views on death were not so different from theirs: she had always believed that death was a gift in her mind, but her heart was not immune to the fear that so many other people felt. Perhaps Isildur's family felt the same: they simply could not resist the fear of death that had surrounded them their entire lives, for the Faithful were dwindling and there were few left who resisted Sauron's teachings.

Yet despite the fear of dying that Isildur's family felt, she could not help but think of all of the other ways in which they _were_ faithful: Isildur's great deed, of course, but also Amandil's efforts to advise the King and encourage the Faithful, and Elendil's strong beliefs which he had passed on to his sons. How different their family was than hers! Her father's lessons in the Faithful's beliefs and Numenor's history had never been very detailed and had ended as she passed from childhood into adolescence, and her brother Failon received equally few lessons. Now her family rarely discussed anything of a political or spiritual matter. They simply lived day to day, absorbed in their professions, chores, friends, and family. When Lienilde contrasted her family with Isildur's, she began to think that there was something more that she should do.

_But what? What can I do? I am young, and I am no hero like Isildur! I want to do something, but I am so scared -- do I really have the strength to resist the King if he should mandate the worship of Melkor? Can I play a role in Numenor's future?_

Suddenly, the answer came to her unbidden -- whether it was from Eru himself or simply a realization of her own, she did not know. But she knew that she had already done something: she had cared for Isildur, sat with him. She had given him her heart as she healed him. And somehow, she knew the answer to her earlier questions: Isildur had been brought into her life for a purpose, and her role in his tale was not yet over.

* * *

_"None too soon was this (Isildur's deed) done; for after the assault the King yielded to Sauron and felled the White Tree, and turned then wholly away from the allegiance of his fathers."_

_-The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion

* * *

_

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-five-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's twelve-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's new bride.  
Serme: "Female friend"  
Vanye: "Beauty"  
Callo: "Noble man."

_Author's Note: I apologize for not following my weekly update schedule; my beta reader is a little behind!_


	9. The Fate of Nimloth

**Chapter 9: The Fate of Nimloth**

Over the course of the next two months, Lienilde's life began to fall back into a pattern. She spent nearly all day with Vorime, attending to patients in all parts of the city. On an island that had never seen war (though its seamen were often met with battle on the shores of Middle-Earth), there were few healers in each city. Thus as the chill winter winds began to blow from the sea, Vorime and Lienilde could easily spend an entire day visiting the homes of the ill.

At the end of the day, Lienilde would stop at Elendil's house to check on Isildur, before returning to her own home for an often late supper. Elendil and Anarion were usually back from the shipyards by the time Lienilde arrived; the early nights and suddenly cold winds often shortened the shipbuilders' days. However, Anarion never spoke of what transpired on the beach the night of Ardil's wedding. Lienilde had a suspicion that he was embarrassed about his show of emotions that night, but she could hardly blame him -- his brother had been near death for a week, and then to hear that Sauron had been building a temple to Melkor for quite some time (for Sauron did not make the purpose of the building apparent at first) would have surely taken a toll on his heart.

Thus the days passed at a steady pace: Lienilde's twenty-sixth birthday came and went without much excitement, as did Failon's thirteenth birthday. Melde focused her attention to her cooking and housework now that her eldest son's wedding had passed, and Ardil and his new bride stopped by for dinner at least once a week.

Isildur slowly began to show more signs of improvement -- he awoke at least once a day, sometimes for as long as a few hours. However, Lienilde was still concerned by the slow progress of his healing wounds and by his unwavering fever. Yet as the days passed, the fear and anxiety that Lienilde had felt earlier abated and was replaced by a calmer concern -- indeed, caring for Isildur soon became just a part of her daily life, not much different than sharing a meal with her family or mending a mischievous child's broken arm. Of course there were times when she would be seized by the strong emotions that she had felt earlier, but they did not last long. She had learned that such feelings did no good and thus tried to ignore them. Amandil informed her that the King's Men had practically abandoned their search, which also helped calm Lienilde's heart. However, she knew that it was still important that she keep Isildur's deed a secret, for surely the search would be renewed if new information on Nimloth's attacker reached the King's ears. But her fears did fade over time, and Lienilde's own family ceased to worry about her, seeing that their old daughter and sister had returned.

It was with that mindset that Lienilde came to Elendil's house one evening to find the door locked. It was the first night in a long while that Elendil and Anarion were still at the shipyards when she came to visit, so she let herself in with the key that Amandil had given her earlier.

The house seemed abnormally quiet as Lienilde stood alone in the front room, for Vorime had not accompanied her that night. (In fact, Vorime only occasionally visited Isildur since his progress was changing so little.) The sun was beginning to set, so Lienilde lit a candle and carried it to find her way to Isildur's dark room.

Isildur was asleep when she entered, a thick blanket pulled up to his chin. His hair was no longer spread across the pillow as when she had first seen him, but rather was bound at the nape of his neck, though several strands had pulled free. Lienilde sat in a chair at his bedside -- so familiar to her now -- and placed a hand on his face to check his fever. At her touch, Isildur's eyes fluttered open. She pulled back her hand as Isildur's eyes found hers and he gazed at her, saying nothing. Lienilde's heart began to pound and she glanced away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his stare. _What is wrong with you, silly girl?_ Lienilde mentally scolded herself. _You have not been this emotional since that first week with him!_ But there was something about sitting alone with Isildur in the quiet room that reminded her of the first time she saw him open his eyes, and all those old emotions suddenly flooded back to her.

"Lienilde." Hearing him speak her name caused her heart to race even faster, and she looked back into Isildur's face. She had heard him speak several times in the last few weeks, but it was normally to his brother, or father, or grandfather -- rarely to her. She could feel her cheeks start to flush and she hoped that the dim candlelight hid her emotions.

"Thank you," Isildur said, still staring at Lienilde, his dark grey eyes focused and unmoving.

"For -- for what?" Lienilde stuttered, unsure of how to reply, though she knew he was thanking her for her care. _But I was simply doing my job_, Lienilde tried to convince herself, but deep down she knew there was more to it than that.

Isildur's brow lowered as he tilted his head, obviously surprised by her reply. "For healing me," he answered, his voice low but stronger then Lienilde had ever heard it.

"But you are not yet fully healed!" Lienilde blurted, then cringed at her own words. One of the first things that Vorime had taught her was to never tell a seriously ill patient the full extent of his condition, to give him hope. "I'm sorry," Lienilde immediately added, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"Don't be," Isildur replied. "I know that I am not well, I am still confined to bed, after all!" Isildur gave Lienilde a weak smile, and she returned it before he continued. "You have been very diligent in your healer's duties, and you have done more than you realize. I am sure that with your care, I will be recovered by winter's end."

"Thank you for your confidence in me," Lienilde replied with another smile, this one more genuine than the first. At that, Isildur leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and she assumed that the conversation was over -- and for that she was thankful, for she knew not what else to say. They remained silent for a moment while Lienilde pondered her patient's words. Though his body was weak, she had seen a strength in Isildur's eyes that she had never before seen in another man. It nearly filled her with awe, and she almost felt as if being his healer was some sort of honor for her. She also wondered what prompted this sudden appreciation on his part -- had he simply been waiting for a chance to speak with her alone? She could sense his sincerity and almost felt embarrassed at his thanks. Thus she sat alone with her thoughts until she heard the steady breathing of Isildur's sleep. A quick glance at his bandages told her that they did not need to be changed, so she left the house and began a slow walk home -- but left the candle at Isildur's bedside, a light in a dark room.

* * *

Late that night, Lienilde sat alone at the windowsill in her bedroom. The city had long since retired, and few candles remained lit in the windows as Lienilde scanned over the nearby streets. From her window she could see many houses and the forests beyond the city -- a calming view compared to the marketplace and harbor visible from the opposite side of her family's house. Their house sat on top of a hill, the last of a short row of houses, and offered a splendid view from each side. The night was cool and the stars were slowly disappearing behind an approaching cloudbank, though Lienilde barely noticed.

As Lienilde sat, gazing over the sleeping homes, she recalled the events from earlier that evening. Dinner with her family had been uneventful, now that she was used to seeing Ardil's seat empty. Yet Lienilde had been distracted by her thoughts of Isildur, and on more than one occasion a family member had to repeat their question before they received an answer from her.

She now realized how foolish it was to have thought that her life had returned to "normal," to how it had been before she met Isildur. She recalled the night of Ardil's wedding, and how she realized that the Valar had brought her and Isildur together for a reason yet unseen to her. How could she have forgotten that?

_But I can't just sit and worry about him all day, either!_ she thought to herself. _My life needs to return to some sort of normal, or I shall go mad from constant thoughts of Isildur!_ Yet she also knew that her life would never be the same -- Isildur had changed her, and she was just now realizing how much she had changed, for the transformation had been very gradual. She now took her healer's duties much more seriously, even for minor cases. Things that once amused her now seemed trivial, like playing games with Failon -- though she did still play with him to make him happy. However, Isildur's heroic deed and knowledge of the Faithful's struggles had suddenly forced her to examine her life from a different viewpoint. Great and terrible things were at work in Numenor, and Lienilde was only one small girl in the midst of it.

With a sigh, Lienilde slowly left the windowsill and slid into bed. "Forgive me, Isildur," she whispered in the dark, "for thinking I could forget your sacrifice and return to my life unchanged. You will never know what you have done for me." A single tear slid down her cheek as Lienilde closed her eyes. It was not long before she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

When Lienilde awoke, it was so dark that at first she thought that it was still night. But when she heard her mother preparing breakfast in the next room, she knew that it must be morning. She walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain to see the sky covered in the blackest clouds she had ever seen. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she thought of the terrible storm that must surely be soon to come. It was then that the wind suddenly shifted and she noticed a sickly sweet stench in the air. "What is happening?" she whispered to the clouds, an uneasiness filling her heart and mind.

She quickly slipped on a clean dress, then without bothering to braid her hair, left her room to find her family. Her mother was in the kitchen, and she saw her father and brother standing in the open doorway of their house, staring at the black sky.

"What is this?" she asked, joining her father and Failon.

"I do not know," Mandil answered. "I do not believe it is simply a storm cloud, but what it is, I cannot say..." His voice lowered as he trailed off into his own thoughts.

Lienilde glanced at Failon; for once the boy was silent, and she could see the fear in his eyes as well. But it was not long before Melde broke the silence with a call to breakfast. No one spoke during the meal, and soon thereafter Lienilde left the house, wanting to make a special stop before joining Vorime for the day.

* * *

Even the marketplace was unusually silent as Lienilde made her way through the city streets, her cloak wrapped tightly around her to block the winter wind. Merchants no longer shouted at the passers-by to sell their wares; customers quietly purchased their goods and moved on to their next destination. Often the only sounds were made by murmuring customers, or by crying babies and their comforting mothers; even the birds in the trees seemed silent. A dread hung over the city that no one wanted to speak of, though everyone felt it. And the smell -- the stench was everywhere, growing stronger as the sun rose somewhere behind the dark clouds, making the city's fear even more palpable.

Lienilde finally arrived at Elendil's house, relieved to see that he and Anarion had not yet left for the shipyards. "Elendil, what is happening?" Lienilde asked as soon as she entered the house.

"I do not know," Elendil said, surprisingly calm -- _or was he just hiding his fear?_ Lienilde thought. "But I sense the work of some evil here -- perhaps the work of Sauron."

"Of Sauron?" Lienilde replied, surprised. "He may control the King, but surly he does not command the sky as well?"

"I do not know," Elendil answered, "but you must feel the presence of darkness in those clouds."

"I do -- we all do," Lienilde said, then fell silent. She glanced over at Anarion, seated in the corner, who had remained wordless since she arrived. Seeing the young man, she suddenly recalled the dance they shared at her brother's wedding. He had seemed like such a good friend at the time, but now she suddenly realized that she had spoken little with him since then as they both became absorbed in their work. In her attempt to distance her emotions from Isildur, had she distanced herself from his family as well? The thought troubled her, but she knew not how to respond to it. So she simply stood still for a moment, unsure of what to say, yet not wanting to leave and begin her work with Vorime, either.

It was not long before the door opened without a knock, and Lienilde turned to see Amandil enter the house. "Father," Elendil said, "Have you learned of what ill omens these clouds bring?"

"Yes, or at least I believe so." Amandil answered, a grief visible in his eyes that reminded Lienilde much of the day Isildur was injured. Her blood seemed to cool as she feared what Amandil would next say. "Sauron has finished building his temple to Melkor, and last night he gave his first burnt offering: the branches of Nimloth." Lienilde, startled by the news, did not realize that no messenger could have ridden from Armenelos in a single night. It was not until several days later that she began to wonder how Amandil had learned of this news so quickly, and a full year would pass before she would learn all the means of the secret communications of the Faithful. But at this moment, all she could think about was fair Nimloth's horrible fate.

"Then it is the smoke of Nimloth that hides the sky?" Anarion exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. Amandil simply nodded, and Lienilde saw Anarion's brow furrow in anger. "How -- how despicable!" Anarion nearly shouted, suddenly pacing across the room. "Numenor has surely fallen fully from the grace of the Valar now! It is only a matter of time until Manwe sends his eagles to destroy the entire isle -- what hope do we have now?"

"We have Isildur!" Lienilde replied rather strongly, surprised at her own vehemence. She quickly lowered her voice and added, "and we have the fruit of Nimloth, planted and ready to sprout in the spring."

"But how much hope can a single tree offer us?" Anarion asked, his voice slowly fading from anger to despair. "I love my brother, but surely one man's act cannot redeem all the sins of Numenor!"

"Isildur's act may have brought us more hope than we realize," Amandil said, taking a few steps to stand beside Lienilde and face his grandson. "And do not forget there are others on the isle who have not yet fallen: you and I, and Lienilde here, and the hundreds of Faithful in Romenna and scattered across the land."

The angry fire in Anarion's eyes finally died completely at his grandfather's words. "Perhaps you are right," he admitted, "but I still fear for Numenor, and -- and for us." At his last words, a tear escaped his eye and he quickly wiped it away. Amandil then approached his grandson and embraced him, and the two men stood still for a moment, their eyes shut. Lienilde own eyes begin to water as she watched the exchange, and when she felt a hand on her shoulder she turned to see Elendil standing beside her. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke of his own grief and fear, and of the hope that Amandil offered. The slightest hint of a smile touched Elendil's lips and warmed Lienilde's heart.

Lienilde suddenly began to feel a calm come over her, as she watched this small family grieve and comfort each other. And perhaps -- perhaps she was part of this family as well. Even though they had rarely spoken during the past two months, she could not deny the closeness she felt to them. She glanced once again at Elendil's hand on her shoulder and her thoughts were confirmed. As she thought of Amandil's words, she began to see that there was nothing she or any of them could have done to stop the building of the temple, but she also knew that they would not give up now -- the Faithful would continue to fight to bring the light of the Valar back to Numenor.

* * *

_"But Sauron caused to be built upon the hill in the midst of the city of the Numenoreans, Armenelos the Golden, a mighty temple; and it was in the form of a circle at the base, and there the walls were fifty feet in thickness, and the width of the base was five hundred feet across the centre, and the walls rose from the ground five hundred feet, and they were crowned with a mighty dome. And that dome was roofed all with silver, and rose glittering in the sun, so that the light of it could be seen afar off; but soon the light was darkened, and the silver became black. For there was an altar of fire in the midst of the temple, and in the topmost of the dome there was a louver, whence there issued a great smoke. And the first fire upon the altar Sauron kindled with the hewn wood of Nimloth, and it crackled and was consumed; but men marveled at the reek that went up from it, so that the land lay under a cloud for seven days, until slowly it passed into the west."_

_-The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion

* * *

_

**Notes:**

I don't know how long it took for Sauron to build his temple because the timeline did not really seem clear to me in the Silmarillion. In this story I'm assuming it was completed only two months since Nimloth was cut down, implying that he had already begun building it beforehand. Plus, I figured that Sauron was so powerful, he could have easily ordered a lot of people to build the temple for him in a rather short amount of time, and the Numenoreans were the best craftsmen in the world!

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	10. Hopelessness

**Chapter 10: Hopelessness**

"So the temple of Melkor has finally been completed," said the man. Lienilde glanced up from her work of mending the man's broken arm while Vorime stood nearby, observing her apprentice's work.

"Yes, it has," Lienilde said quietly, her eyes returning to the bandages.

"What a glorious day for Numenor, then!" the man continued, though his wavering voice belied the confidence in his words.

Lienilde said nothing, though she desperately wanted to tell the man how wrong he was and to tell him of Isildur's great sacrifice. News of what had caused the black smoke spread quickly through the island and was met with mixed reactions. Some, like this man, believed the King's words and welcomed this new way of worshipping Melkor, forgetting the fear they had felt earlier that day when they first saw the smoke. Members of the Faithful, however, reacted in much the same way as Anarion -- with despair, and with fear that Numenor had completed its fall from the Valar's grace. However no one was indifferent -- even those that had previously ignored both the worship of Melkor and the plight of the Faithful now felt obligated to make a choice after seeing the dark omen in the sky. Yet through all of this, Lienilde remained silent, though she was finding it harder to do so with each patient. It was not in a healer's place to discuss such matters, or to affirm or reject a patient's beliefs. All must be given equal care.

Thus, Lienilde said nothing in reply to the man's comments, and Vorime remained silent as well. The man soon fell mute himself, seeing that his audience was not responding, though later he began to tell them of the accident in the horse stables which had resulted in his broken arm. Lienilde again said little in reply, too consumed with her own thoughts. Soon the man's arm was bandaged and the two healers were on their way. Vorime then sent Lienilde to check on Isildur, while the elderly healer headed home for the night.

It was a rather long walk to Isildur's home and Lienilde had plenty of time to reflect on the day's events: of the dark clouds that had appeared that morning, and of her patients' reactions throughout the day. As she approached the marketplace she noticed that the normal noise and bustle was returning, though there was still a nervous tone in many people's voices. The city was trying to return to normal now that there was an explanation for the smoke and the stench, but Romenna was not yet fully at ease. Indeed, even many of those who supported the worship of Melkor seemed anxious and worried despite their words. _It is the black smoke_, Lienilde thought. _Men are children of the sun; we fear the night. How can anyone support the worship of a being who covers the land in darkness?_ Lienilde's steps then slowed to a stop as she gazed up at the sky. The dark smoke had not abated; only a slight red glow in the west indicated that the sun was setting.

The black sky sent shivers down Lienilde's spine, and so she lowered her head and continued to walk to Isildur's house. _The Valar themselves raised Numenor from the sea_, Lienilde thought, suddenly recalling the history lessons of her youth. _Have we really fallen so far that we would forsake their grace and turn to their enemy?_ The emotions that had been building inside of her all day suddenly flowed forth, and she sank to her knees on the side of the road as tears began to fall from her eyes. Anarion's words from that morning rang in her ears, and though she did not doubt that Isildur had found favor with the Valar, she now knew that his deed alone could not save Numenor. _Anarion was right -- Numenor has no hope. Not unless the people will turn from Melkor... yet Amandil spoke of the Faithful still on the isle. Are there enough Faithful that we may turn the hearts of everyone else? But no --_ Lienilde's thoughts turned to a conversation she had with Amandil a few weeks ago on the very topic:

"Lienilde," Amandil had said, "If we try to force the people to worship Eru, we would have to usurp the throne. Taking such power for ourselves would only corrupt our own hearts, and we would be no better than Sauron. Plus, Eru has appointed the line of Elros to be King--"

"But you are of the line of Elros!" Lienilde had interjected. "You would have even been king if the law had been different in the days of Tar-Elendil!"

"True. But the law was not made at that time: I have not been appointed King; that title has gone to Ar-Pharazon. Eru raises kings up and causes them to fall, and we must trust that he has a purpose in all of this chaos."

_A purpose_, Lienilde thought, her mind returning to the present. _How can Eru have a purpose in allowing the people to worship the Great Enemy?_ Yet Lienilde knew that Amandil was right -- the Faithful could not take the throne by force. _But what can we do? Sit and wait for the Valar to intervene? But Isildur -- Isildur did not wait idly!_

Finally Lienilde just emptied her mind of all her jumbled thoughts, and sat motionless as she tried to calm her heart and dry her tears. She sat quietly, eyes closed, listening -- not to the sounds of the marketplace, or to the steps of the passers-by who ignored the young girl kneeling beside the road, thinking she was simply scared of the dark; but to her own heart. Soon a thought came to her, almost as if someone was speaking to her, though she heard no voice: _You have already begun your task; persevere and you will be shown the way to its completion._

Lienilde remained still as her heart calmed for the first time all day. _I am on the right path_, she thought, _I just cannot see the end. For what else can I do but continue on?_ With that final thought she slowly rose to her feet and opened her eyes. The sight of the black sky was almost a shock to her, but she did not allow it to break her newfound sense of purpose, weak though it was. As the sights and sounds of the marketplace returned to her she quickened her step, the image of Isildur's face filling her mind.

* * *

When she arrived at Isildur's home, she was surprised to find that Elendil and Anarion were not there. Glancing down the street, she saw candles burning in Amandil's window, and she suspected that the family had gathered at his house to discuss the day's events. Thus, she once again let herself into the dark home.

"Hello, Lienilde." The voice startled her as she entered Isildur's room; she had not expected to find her patient awake, sitting up in bed.

"Hello," she replied, laying her bag of healer's supplies on the floor. "How are you feeling?"

"The same as yesterday, and the day before..." his voice trailed off, and Lienilde noticed a rather unsettled look on his face, though she could not place the exact emotion -- fear? Worry? Even pain, perhaps?

"Lienilde," Isildur continued before Lienilde had a chance to formulate a reply. "What has happened today? There is a foul stench in the air, and my father and brother are not home even though it is night."

Lienilde paused for a moment. _He does not know_, she thought. But should she tell him of Sauron's new triumph, or would it be best for him to hear the ill tidings from his father? And how much does he already know -- does he know that the King chopped down Nimloth not long after he stole its fruit? Does he know that Sauron had begun to build the temple? Yet a glance at Isildur's anxious face confirmed to her that she must tell him: she could not leave him waiting, worrying, until Elendil returned home.

But the thought of bearing such news quickly saddened her heart, and any feelings of hope and purpose she had felt earlier now left her. With a sigh, she finally spoke, keeping her voice calm as to not worry Isildur needlessly: "How much do you know of Sauron's recent work in Armenelos?"

"I know that Sauron has cut down Nimloth," Isildur replied, lowering his eyes to stare at his hands, now clasped in his lap. "And that he began building a temple to -- to Melkor."

_Good_, Lienilde thought, _If he already knows of the temple, hopefully news of its completion will not be too hard for him_. Yet Lienilde saw the sadness in his eyes and knew that the news would not be easy, either.

"I am sorry," said Lienilde as she approached his bed and sat beside him on the chair. "But Sauron has completed his temple, and last night he gave his first burnt offering--" She paused, not wanting to complete her sentence, but finally mustering the courage to do so: "the branches of Nimloth. The smoke has darkened the sky all day; it is in fact only evening and the sun is just now setting."

Lienilde looked at Isildur expectantly, wanting to know how he would react to the news. "No," he whispered, and then buried his face in his hands. He said nothing for a long moment, and Lienilde began to wonder if he was trying not to cry. As the time passed she sat still, not knowing what else to say, and wondered if she should have even told Isildur what had happened. For surely Elendil or Anarion would know how to comfort him better than she!

"I'm sorry," Lienilde finally said, and then on an impulse she moved from her chair to sit on the side of his bed, next to the grieving young man. She wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders and repeated, in hardly more than a whisper, "I'm sorry."

Isildur finally dropped his hands, and sure enough, his eyes glistened with tears. He stared straight forward, refusing to look at her just yet. "There is nothing to be sorry about; it is not your fault," he said, his voice also quiet. "It is just -- just that my efforts seem to have been in vain!" His voice began to crack with tears, and Lienilde felt her own eyes moisten as she watched the young man cry. "How foolish I was to think that preserving a fruit of Nimloth would save all of Numenor from the Valar's wrath! Nothing will be able to redeem us after this abomination! And yet, I continue to suffer so -- I have tried to do right; why am I still being punished?"

Tears now ran freely down Lienilde's face as she listened to Isildur's words. It pained her to hear him speak of the same hopelessness that Anarion had felt only hours before. After seeing so many of her patients praise Sauron's efforts earlier that day, she began to wonder if there was some truth to Isildur's words. Was she the fool to think that there was still hope for Numenor's redemption?

"I -- I do not know," Lienilde finally said. "I cannot believe that a just god would have you suffer so, yet I do not understand why your wounds are so slow to heal. I wish I could help -- I wish I could tell you that there was hope for Numenor -- yet I do not even know myself anymore!" At this, Lienilde dropped her arm from Isildur's shoulder and began to cry into her own hands.

Isildur then turned to look at her through his own tears. The sight of the young woman crying nearly broke his heart, and he now regretted his outburst. He should have waited to display such emotions until his father came home, rather than putting such pressure on the healer. Lienilde's last words suddenly rang true, and he wished he could help her -- to heal her heart as she had tried to heal his body. He then wrapped his arm around Lienilde's waist, for the arrow wound in his shoulder was too painful to raise it any higher.

The warmth of his arm around the small of her back nearly sent a shiver through Lienilde's body. Wiping away her tears, she looked up to return Isildur's gaze. For a brief moment they sat silent, each seeing their own emotions reflected in the other's eyes. But soon Lienilde turned away, feeling uncomfortable under his stare.

"Lienilde," Isildur finally spoke, "it is my turn to be sorry. I should not have reacted so -- why, we hardly know each other; it was not right for me to pour out my heart to you."

"It is all right," Lienilde said, the slightest hint of a smile forming on her face. It had touched her heart that Isildur would forget his own sadness to apologize to her. She was beginning to see his true character -- not only did he care for Numenor as whole, but for its individual citizens as well. However, she also guessed that his physical condition had caused him to drop his guard slightly and to express his feelings more freely.

Isildur then dropped his arm from Lienilde's side and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. It suddenly struck Lienilde that such a show of emotions must have taxed Isildur's strength, for he was still weak with fever. "Isildur," said she, "if you are willing, let me bring you some soup. You need the nourishment."

"Yes, thank you," Isildur replied quietly, opening his eyes to give her a weak smile. Lienilde had seen a pot of soup over the fire when she had entered the house, and now she left his room to retrieve a bowl. Her mind was still reeling from all that she had experienced in the last few minutes, and rather than confront her feelings now she simply focused on the task of getting the bowl of soup, and later checking Isildur's wounds while he slowly ate. They said little for the rest of the time Lienilde stayed, speaking only when necessary as the healer treated her patient, and for that Lienilde was thankful. It had been a tiring day for both of them, and it did her mind good to forget about the day's events for a few moments.

Isildur was nearly asleep by the time she finished changing his bandages, and after helping him lay back down in his bed, she quietly left the house to return to her own home. It was well past sunset by the time she left, and she was thankful that the darkness of night hid the smoke above, though nothing could hide the stench. Suddenly anxious to return to the safety of her own home, she quickened her step, and soon she was greeted at the door of her house by the familiar scent of her mother's cooking.

Dinner that night passed with a mix of silence and uneasy small talk. By now everyone in the family knew the source of the ominous smoke, but no one seemed willing to talk about it. Whether it was because her parents were afraid of scaring her younger brother with such talk, or because they simply did not want to think about it, Lienilde did not know. The family soon retired to bed early -- or at least, Lienilde thought it was early, for she did not know exactly when the sun had set. She did not realize how tired she was until she climbed into bed, and she was thankful to fall asleep soon rather than dwell on the day's depressing events throughout the night.

* * *

**Notes:**

Tar-Elendil was the fourth king of Numenor. His daughter Silmarien was his oldest child, but at his time the law stated that the kingship should go to the first son. Later, the sixth king of Numenor, Tar-Aldarion, had only one child, a daughter, and the law was changed so that the king's eldest child would become the next ruler of Numenor, regardless of whether they were male or female. Silmarien's descendants became the Lords of Adunie instead, and eventually the kings of Gondor and Arnor. Just a little note for any readers who may be a little rusty on their Numenorean history!

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	11. Secrets Revealed

**Chapter 11: Secrets Revealed**

Lienilde awoke the next morning to the persistent sound of her mother's knocking. She immediately noticed that the sky was still dark and the stench still permeated even their house. Her heart dropped; she had hoped to awake to a bright, sunny day so that maybe the isle could return to how it was before the smoke had arrived.

She slowly slid out of bed and stood up, but feeling slightly light-headed she quickly sat down again.

"Lienilde, I have been knocking for several minutes," her mother Melde said, finally opening the door. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Lienilde answered, but her mother did not believe her. Walking across the room, Melde immediately put a hand on her daughter's forehead.

"Why, you have a bit of a fever!" Melde exclaimed. Maybe I should send for Vorime--"

"No mother, it is all right," Lienilde answered. "It is just a winter flu; I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. After nearly a year of training I can certainly diagnose a simple flu," Lienilde said with a weak smile.

"Very well then," Melde replied, "I shall send Failon to tell Vorime you will not be working today, and to fetch some of her herbs. And you, my dear, are not to leave your bed for awhile." Lienilde nodded, knowing that she could not convince her mother otherwise. She was surprised that she had been able to prevent her mother from calling for Vorime, for Melde had always been rather overly concerned when one of her children was ill. Though it was not without cause: she had been that way ever since Ardil had survived a rather serious illness as a child.

Melde then turned to leave, but Lienilde called out as an afterthought, "Wait -- have Failon tell Vorime to check on Isildur."

"Of course, dear," Melde replied with a smile before leaving her daughter alone for a while.

Lienilde lay back down and sighed. After what had transpired between her and Isildur the previous day, she was rather looking forward to seeing him again. She wanted to ensure that he was handling the news of the temple well, but more importantly she wanted to spend more time with a man who would care so much for a young healer he hardly knew. _He hardly knew_, Lienilde repeated to herself. _That is why I long to see him -- I hardly know him, and I want to learn more about him: his thoughts, his character... and I wouldn't object if he learned a little about me in the process..._ Lienilde suddenly realized that a smile had formed on her face. _I do care about him_, she thought. _Even though I may have tried to forget at times, trying to be a professional healer, I've always cared about him, ever since I first saw him, really..._ With that thought, Lienilde drifted off to a light sleep, as her body tried to recover from her illness.

* * *

The day passed slowly for Lienilde. When she was not napping, she was eating the soup and herbal tea her mother prepared, or reading the healers' manuals that Vorime had loaned her early in her apprenticeship, just to pass the time. Being confined to bed was already depressing enough, but the continual sight and smell of Nimloth's smoke outside her window worsened her mood even more. She soon longed to leave her room and do something, anything, to take her mind away from her dreary thoughts, but she knew that her mother would not allow her to leave her room until her fever dropped. 

Late in the afternoon, she was pleasantly surprised to hear a knock at her door, recognizing that the hand did not belong to her mother. Her younger brother Failon then entered the room.

"Lienilde, would a game of chess cheer you up?" he asked, holding up the board and a box of wooden chess pieces. Mandil had carved the pieces several years ago when Failon had first shown an interest in chess at a rather young age. Mandil may have been a smith by trade, but he had always had a heart for whittling, and the house was full of his hand-crafted wooden trinkets.

"I don't know if it will cheer _me_ up," Lienilde replied with a smile, "but I have a feeling you would much enjoy it!"

"I was going to let you win," Failon said, trying his best to act insulted but failing miserably, "but not if you won't be nice to me!"

Lienilde laughed, thankful for the release from her previous thoughts. "Just come here and play! I know you would never let me win; you derive too much joy from seeing us adults lose to an 'innocent child' such as yourself."

Failon grinned, knowing she spoke the truth. He climbed up onto the foot of her bed, facing his sister and putting the board between them. It was not long before he had arranged all the pieces on the board. "Here," he said, "I will be nice and even let you make the first move."

"That's only because you always want to go second!" Lienilde exclaimed. "I can see through you too easily, brother. You go first, and perhaps I will have a chance to deflect your attacks!"

Failon grinned; the challenge had begun.

* * *

Failon easily won the first game, to no surprise for either of them. Lienilde readily agreed to a second game, for the alternative -- sitting alone in her room until her mother brought her dinner -- did not appeal to her. 

Yet as the game drew on, the siblings grew tired of idle talk and fell to silence. Not long after, Failon began to make several misjudgments in his strategy, being surprised by some of Lienilde's moves. Concerned, Lienilde studied her bother closely, and could see that his thoughts were not fully on the game.

"Failon, is something wrong?" Lienilde finally asked. "You are not playing as well as usual."

"It's just that--" he paused, and looked out the window. "Do not the dark clouds depress you?"

"Yes," Lienilde replied, "it seems that no matter what I do, they are always on my mind."

"I know," Failon turned toward the chessboard, for it was his turn, but soon decided against moving just yet and looked up at his sister.

"They say the smoke comes from the King's offerings to Melkor," Failon finally said. "Yet what could he burn that would cloud the whole isle for two days? And why does he even worship Melkor -- Mother and Father have always said that Melkor was evil, so why would a king do such a thing?"

Surprised, Lienilde looked at her brother. Failon normally took his problems to their parents; he had never opened up his heart to her like this before. She hesitated in her answer, unsure of how to respond.

"Well," she finally replied, "Your first question is easiest to answer. King Ar-Pharazon -- or rather Sauron -- burned the White Tree of Numenor as his first offering."

"The White Tree? Is that not a symbol of the kings?"

"Yes," she replied, but did not tell him of Tar-Palantir's prophecy that Nimloth was tied to the fate of the line of Elros. She knew that would bring questions that she was unable to answer.

"But why would the King do such a thing?" Failon repeated his earlier question, frustrated that he was not getting all the answers he desired.

"I guess even kings can be corrupted by evil," Lienilde simply replied.

"But what hope does Numenor have if even its King has turned to evil?"

Lienilde almost cringed at his words. How many times had she heard others ask a form of the same question -- how many times had she asked the question herself? And what was the answer? Had she ever received a satisfactory answer?

"Just because a king has turned to evil," Lienilde said, "does not mean that his people must turn as well. Do you recall Mother and Father's talk of the Faithful?"

"Yes, but what have they ever done? Should they not fight this evil?"

_But they have done something -- Isildur has done something!_ Lienilde desperately wanted to tell her brother. But once again she refrained herself from telling his story -- if anyone loyal to the King learned of his deed, Isildur and likely his whole family would be in danger.

"They do not yet wish to be counted as rebels against the King," Lienilde finally replied instead. "They have kept the decrees of the Valar -- that is all we can do for now."

Failon sighed and looked down at the chessboard, knowing that Lienilde could give him no better answer. "I suppose. But surely the Valar will not permit the King to worship Melkor forever."

Before Lienilde could formulate a reply, they heard Melde call Failon to dinner.

"Let us call this game a draw," Failon said as he began to gather up the pieces. Lienilde's first thought was to tease him for not insisting that they continue the game so he would win, but she thought better of it. Failon did not seem to be in the mood for such humor, and neither was she. When they were finished, Lienilde stood up from her bed.

"Mother will be angry if you leave your room!" Failon cautioned.

"I do not care; I think I shall go mad if I spend any more time locked in this dreary room!" A brief image of Isildur, confined to bed for two months now, flashed through her mind, but she quickly ignored it as she made her way to the kitchen.

* * *

After much persuasion, Melde allowed Lienilde to join the family for dinner, with the stipulation that Lienilde not leave the house until her fever was gone. The girl readily agreed, knowing that as long as her fever persisted she would not be well enough to perform her healer's duties anyway. 

Although about halfway through the meal, Lienilde began to wonder why she had been so persistent about joining them. The family was much quieter than normal; everyone was still obviously depressed by the black smoke and the pervasive stench. Indeed, Lienilde was finding it difficult just to finish her meal with the foul odor in her nostrils. Finally she leaned back in her seat, deciding that she had eaten enough.

"Are you all right, dear?" Melde asked, seeing that her daughter had quit eating. "I told you not to get out of bed--"

"I am fine, Mother. I am just not hungry, the stench--" she then stopped, deciding that she did not want to worsen the mood by discussing the smoke.

However, the damage had been done. "When is the smoke going to clear?" Failon asked.

"I do not know, son," Mandil simply replied.

"Do you think it is an omen?" Failon persisted on the topic. His words became more rushed as he began to let his frustrations show: he had asked a lot of questions that day but had not received many answers. "I still do not understand why no one will fight the King or Sauron to stop the worship of Melkor -- or maybe if someone could tear down the temple -- but I know--" Finally he could think of no more words and sat sullenly, his arms crossed.

Mandil and Melde traded a glance, clearly unsure of how to address their son. Finally Mandil spoke: "Failon, you know that kings are appointed by the Valar; we cannot rebel against them. There must be some purpose to this that we do not see."

"What purpose can there be?" Failon retorted. "And even if there is a purpose, what do we do until then? Sit around and do nothing? Like the Faithful have done, ever since Sauron rose to power? Why do they call themselves the--"

"But they have done something!" Lienilde exclaimed, then quickly regretted her words. She felt her cheeks flush and she turned her gaze downward, hoping that no one would ask her to elaborate.

Her parents glanced at her but said nothing when they saw that their daughter did not wish to speak further, yet they were curious as to what she knew. _Probably just rumors she heard from her patients_, Mandil concluded.

Failon, however, was not so tactful. "What have they done?" he asked, wondering why she had not shared this information with him earlier that afternoon.

Lienilde tried to think of an answer that would not betray Isildur, but she could think of no other such deeds of the Faithful that she could tell instead, and she did not want to invent a tale. _But they are my family_, she thought. _I trust them to keep quiet, so what harm would be there be in telling them? Plus they are all so sad and I want to share with them the hope that I have -- not matter how small it may be_. She drew in a breath and looked up.

"You must tell no one of this," Lienilde began. "If certain people hear of this, a man's life will be in danger." Her parents looked at her in concern, suddenly worried that their daughter had aided in some secret, dangerous act. However, Lienilde's stern warning was directed toward her brother. Failon's eyes widened and he nodded, eager to hear what she had to say. _He is young_, Lienilde thought, _but I know I can trust him_.

"You know that I have been caring for Elendil's son Isildur for the past several weeks. I have told you that he was ill, but in truth, he was terribly wounded--" she paused, then decided to tell the story from the beginning:

"Two months ago Amandil, Elendil's father, received news that Sauron had plans to cut down Nimloth. He immediately shared his concerns with his son and grandsons, for many years ago Tar-Palantir had prophesied that the fate of Nimloth would be tied to that of the line of Elros.

"Isildur took it to heart that he must somehow prevent this fate. Telling no one, he managed to enter the courts of the King and steal a fruit of Nimloth. But the guard was aroused and attacked him, and he barely escaped, and received many wounds. Since he was in disguise, no one knew it was him.

"The fruit is now planted, and we pray that when it sprouts in the spring that it may bring some hope to Numenor, and that the Valar may show mercy--"

Lienilde suddenly stopped as tears appeared in her eyes. She turned away from her family, not wanting them to see her cry. This was the first time she had shared the story with anyone, and the telling of it -- even this brief telling -- brought back all of the emotions she had felt since she first saw the young man, lying on the blood-stained sheets.

Her family remained silent for a moment. Her parents were relieved to hear that their daughter had not participated in any such heroic act herself, though they could see that she was still deeply affected by the experience. In fact, Melde was not surprised at the story, for she had seen several changes in her daughter's well-being and attitude ever since that first day she had treated Isildur. And now that she thought of it, she recalled Vorime saying that Isildur had been injured during the night -- funny how she had forgotten and had not thought anything strange when Lienilde later said he was simply ill. She also now knew that this was the reason for the visit from the King's Man two months ago.

Melde then walked to the other side of the table and sat on the same bench as Lienilde. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, and suddenly Lienilde quit trying to hide her tears. "I have wanted to tell you for so long," Lienilde whispered into her mother's shoulder.

"I know," Melde replied. "But I am proud of you. You have been very strong to keep such a secret in your heart, and to care for him for so long."

As Mandil watched his wife and daughter, he marveled at the change he saw in Lienilde. He had noticed that she seemed to have grown up rather quickly as of late, but he had simply attributed it to her work as an apprentice. He recalled that his own apprenticeship had taught him much about responsibility and maturity. Yet he saw something more than that tonight. As Lienilde told her story, he had sensed many emotions in her voice: fear, yes, but also pride for Isildur, and even purpose. He realized that this event had shown her that there was much more to the world than simply her family and her apprenticeship. Mandil knew then that his daughter was no longer his little girl, but well on her way to adulthood -- and he knew that she would be a woman that he could be proud of.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	12. A Visitor

**Chapter 12: A Visitor**

The next morning, Lienilde awoke to yet another dark day under the smoke of Nimloth. She knew that her fever was not better and that she would spend that day and likely the next several days confined to the house. Yet the thought did not sadden her as much as it did the previous day. Ever since she had told her family of Isildur it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had not realized how much she had longed to tell someone until last night.

The day began slowly for Lienilde. Her mother brought her breakfast in bed, and later she made her way to the front room sit by the warm fireplace. Noontime found her still seated by the fire, with a warm blanket on her lap and a book in her hand. It was nearing the middle of winter and judging by how cold the house was, Lienilde guessed it was the coldest day yet that year. She tried to ignore the chill and focus on the healers' manual she was reading. The current chapter was a discussion on rashes and boils, complete with detailed illustrations, and not for the first time Lienilde began to wish she had a different book to read. Her mother would not allow her to do much else besides read and sleep, and there were few books in the house.

Thus when a knock sounded on the front door that morning, Melde rushed from the kitchen to answer it, instructing Lienilde to stay in her seat. When Melde opened the door, Lienilde was surprised to see a familiar face in the doorway.

Anarion removed his hood and glanced at Lienilde, then turned to address her mother: "Hello, I do not believe we have met. I am Anarion, son of Elendil."

"Welcome. I am Melde, daughter of Veryandil. Lienilde tells me that she has been treating your brother; is everything well?"

Anarion's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he glanced at Lienilde, clearly curious as to what she had told her family. Lienilde simply gave him a weak smile.

"Everything is fine," Anarion answered. "I have simply come to call on Lienilde and see if she is well, if I may."

"Of course," Melde replied, then returned to the kitchen, though Lienilde did not doubt that her mother would be listening to their conversation. Fortunately Failon was running an errand for Melde in the marketplace, so Lienilde only had one meddlesome family member to worry about at the moment.

Anarion took a seat beside Lienilde. "Vorime told us you were ill," Anarion began, "so I wanted to see how you were faring."

"I am fine; it is nothing more than a winter flu. I am sure I will be working again in just a few days. But thank you for stopping by."

"Do not mention it. Besides, this is a warm relief from the cold shipyards," he added with a smile.

"Indeed it would be," Lienilde answered, and then they both fell silent as the unspoken question hung in the air. Finally, Lienilde answered it: "I told my family about Isildur," she said, lowering her voice though she was not sure why; there was no one in the house to hide the conversation from. "I had previously told them only that he was ill and that Vorime had asked me to check on him daily, but last night I -- well, I told them everything. Everyone was so sad, and I just wanted to share a little hope. I do hope that Amandil will not be upset--"

"Do not worry," Anarion interrupted her, briefly resting a hand on her knee. "If you trust your family, then my grandfather will also."

"Thank you," Lienilde said with a smile, which Anarion soon returned.

After another brief moment of silence -- this one much more comfortable than the first -- Anarion spoke again: "Isildur asked about you today. Your visits seem to do him good -- even on the days that we spend in the shipyards and do not see him awake, you are always there."

Lienilde's cheeks warmed slightly at the compliment. "I -- I am just doing my job," she replied, though neither believed her. Lienilde thought back to the last time she had seen Isildur, two days prior, when they had confided their fears to each other. She did not yet want to admit to Anarion that she looked forward to her visits with Isildur, for she wanted to keep her appearance as a professional healer. Yet she also knew that she was much more than simply a healer to Anarion and his family -- she was a friend. Were there any reasons to maintain such appearances?

Anarion saw Lienilde's face flush and he hid a smile. Anarion had arrived home not long after Lienilde's last visit, and Isildur had awakened again and was in rather a contemplative mood. His brother had admitted that Lienilde had told him of the smoke and the completion of Sauron's temple but said no more. Anarion had wondered what had transpired between the healer and her patient that night. He recalled Lienilde's earlier visits, and how she always seemed so eager to treat Isildur. And even though Isildur seldom spoke of her -- indeed, he rarely even spoke _to_ her, from what Anarion had seen -- he always seemed to be in better spirits after her visits. Anarion could see that some sort of bond, perhaps only a weak one but a bond nonetheless, was growing between his brother and the young healer, and now Anarion realized that Lienilde sensed the same thing.

Yet Anarion was polite enough to discontinue the conversation, and so he stood and said, "I suppose I should be leaving then, and leave you to your rest--"

Just then the door burst open and Failon entered, carrying a rather large bag of flour, which he immediately dropped on the floor. He then closed the door and leaned against it to catch his breath, when he suddenly noticed Lienilde's visitor. "Hello there," he panted.

Anarion smiled, obviously amused that Failon was so exhausted, for the bag of flour should not have been that heavy for a boy his age. Failon had never been the strongest child in the neighborhood, though. "Hello, I am Anarion, son of Elendil. And you must be Failon -- Lienilde has mentioned you." Anarion motioned toward the seat he had just left and continued, "Please, come here and warm yourself by the fire; the wind is rather chill today."

A sudden recognition flashed on Failon's face as walked toward the fire. Anarion once again raised his eyebrows and looked at Lienilde; apparently when she said she had told "her family" Anarion did not think that included the young boy. Lienilde smiled to confirm his suspicions then glanced away, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed that she had told her whole family.  
Melde then entered the room to carry the flour to the kitchen. "Anarion, would you care to stay for lunch? It will be ready in just a moment, and there is plenty for an extra plate."

Anarion could not refuse such an offer; Melde had a way of inviting guests so that they never turned down a meal. Mandil soon arrived home from the smithy, though Ardil had elected to eat lunch with his wife that day. Lienilde was almost relieved, since her elder brother was the only one who did not know of Isildur.

Yet the conversation at lunch never turned to Isildur; rather, it was the polite talk typical of any meal in which a guest was invited. Anarion and Mandil dominated the conversation, each telling the other about the crafts of their trade. Lienilde could see that Failon wanted to ask Anarion about Isildur -- likely he wanted to hear some exciting tale of how Isildur fought off the guard -- but a stern glance from Melde kept him silent.

After the meal Anarion was finally able to retreat to the shipyards and Mandil returned to the smithy, while Melde turned to baking bread in the kitchen. This left Lienilde alone with her eager chess-playing brother, and thus she passed the day playing games with Failon, though the smoke of Nimloth was ever present to darken their mood whenever they found themselves beginning to enjoy the game.

* * *

Lienilde's life settled into a routine for the next few days as she slowly recovered from her illness. She spent her time sleeping, reading, and playing chess with Failon. She even managed to win one game -- Failon was not perfect, after all, and occasionally lost to a determined opponent. Though Ardil occasionally came over to share a meal, often accompanied by his wife, the family elected not tell Ardil about Isildur because Inzil and her family were less sympathetic towards the Faithful.

Vorime did stop by a few times to check on Lienilde, though she received no other visitors. Lienilde often wondered how Isildur was doing -- she doubted his physical condition had changed much since he seemed abnormally slow to heal, but she was still concerned about his heart and whether he was still agonizing over the fate of Nimloth. She wondered if he had ever opened up to his family about his fears as he did to her -- when Anarion visited he had said nothing about it. But such questions she could not ask Vorime, so she was forced to wait until she could see him herself.

Finally, on the eighth day after the smoke of Nimloth first appeared, Lienilde awoke to a bright sunrise. The light nearly hurt her eyes, for she had become so accustomed to dark during the previous week, but her heart still soared to see a blue sky. Leaning out of her window to get a better view of the island, she could still see the dark smoke in the distance, as the wind swept it across the island toward the western sea. As an added joy, her fever had finally left her, though she was not that surprised for she had begun to feel better the previous day.

Thus, her mood was rather elevated as she returned to her healer's duties that day. There were surprisingly few patients to attend to, and it was not long before she found herself at Isildur's doorstep. The sun had not yet set, so Lienilde was not surprised to find that Elendil and Anarion were not at home. She was pleased; she had hoped to find Isildur alone so she could talk to him again.

Isildur was asleep when she entered the room, though the touch of her hand as she checked his fever soon woke him. He seldom slept through her visits as of late, which was certainly an improvement over his earlier condition, but his wounds were still incredibly slow to heal and pained him too much for him to leave his bed.

Lienilde smiled as her patient opened his eyes, and soon he returned the smile. "I am glad to see you are well," he said, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

"And I am glad to return to my duties." _And to you_, she almost added, but thought better of it. "Have you seen that the sun has returned?"

"Yes, I noticed this morning. It was a welcome sight." His voice was low and soft, and Lienilde could see that he was rather tired, yet he began to prop himself up on the pillows as if he wanted to sit up.

"You needn't move," Lienilde scolded him. "Stay there, and drink this," she added as she handed him some herbal tea.

Isildur had sat up enough that he could sip the tea without her assistance, so Lienilde moved on to examining his wounds while he drank. After a moment Isildur asked, with a slight smile on his face, "Has anyone ever told you that this tea tastes terrible?"

Lienilde smiled herself; she had drunk much of that same tea the previous few days. "Yes, but it is good for a fever," she replied, her eyes not leaving the bandages she was attending.

"Lienilde," Isildur then said, his face taking on a more serious expression. "We have spent much time together over the past two months or so, yet we hardly know each other. Tell me about yourself; I am not much in the mood to talk today."

Lienilde glanced up, surprised. She had thought much the same thing lately, but had never found the courage to start such a conversation. She was pleased to know that Isildur was interested in her life -- though she perhaps should not have been startled after the thoughtfulness he had shown her on her last visit.

Yet no matter how happy she was, Lienilde was not sure what to tell him. "What do you want to know?" she asked. _How am I supposed to respond to "tell me about yourself," anyway?_

"Well, to begin," Isildur replied, "How long have you been a healer? Why did you choose such a trade?"

"I began my apprenticeship nearly a year ago," she answered as she continued to change one of his bandages. The bandages did not need to be changed near as often, but the wounds still persisted. "As for why..." she paused as she recalled the event from her childhood: "When we were young, my older brother Ardil fell ill with a terrible fever. Vorime came to our house several times each day, administering herbs and monitoring him closely, until he was finally well. I never forgot the care she showed him, for her diligence likely saved his life. When I came of age and my mother wanted me to begin an apprenticeship, I knew that I wanted to help people and give them hope, just as Vorime had given hope to my brother and family."

Lienilde finished wrapping the bandages then glanced up at Isildur. He sat with his eyes closed, the cup of tea empty in his hand. But when he noticed the pause in the conversation, he opened his eyes and said, "That is the best motivation, to help others. I -- I am glad you made the choice that you did."

Lienilde felt her face warm at the compliment, though it was occasions like this that made her wish that she did not flush so easily. "Thank you," she said, taking the empty cup from his hand. "I am finished here, and I can see you are tired. Rest, and I will see you again tomorrow."

She helped him lay back down in the bed, and as she left the room, she heard him say softly, "Goodnight, Lienilde, lover of people."

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.  
Veryandil: "Bold friend."

_I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter, since when I started the story I promised I would update weekly! I have been very busy at work, and my beta reader has been very busy with work and night classes, so I will try to keep updating regularly but I won't make any promises! Thanks for staying with me despite the wait! _


	13. Isildur’s Story

**Chapter 13: Isildur's Story**

For the next few weeks, Lienilde and Isildur made an effort to continue such conversations during her visits. Some days Isildur dominated the dialogue, often telling her about his work in the shipyards and the voyages on which he had sailed, but occasionally relaying a story about his family or recalling a memory from his childhood. On other days Isildur was too tired to talk much, so Lienilde entertained him with stories from her work or Failon's latest antics. She told him about Ardil's wedding, since Isildur was also a friend of Inzil's brother, but omitted the conversation she had with Anarion and the dance they had shared. Anarion had been very upset that night, and she decided that if Anarion wanted his brother to know what had transpired on the beach, then he would tell Isildur himself.

After a few days, however, a question began to form in Lienilde's mind, but she wanted to wait for the right moment to ask: a time when Isildur was fully awake and alert, and a time when none of his family was present. Even though Lienilde considered herself a friend of the family -- and knew that they saw her as a friend as well -- she still felt a little awkward participating in such informal talk with her patient while they were in the room. She still thought that she should appear as a professional healer while she was at work -- or at least most of the time.

However, a day finally arrived when Lienilde was able to complete her healer's duties with her other patients early, and had at least a full hour before Elendil and Anarion would be home. Amandil now rarely visited Isildur while the other family members were away -- it had become clear weeks ago that constant care would not likely provide any additional benefit for the injured man. As long as tea and food were left at his bedside, Isildur seemed to do fine being alone for a few hours at a time.

Thus when Lienilde entered Isildur's room to find him wide awake, she was quite pleased.

"You have come early today," he remarked. The slight smile on his face told her that he was not displeased.

"Yes, there were few patients to attend to today." A quick inspection of his clean bandages showed her that he would need no additional treatment that day, yet she lingered. Finally, she said, a little nervously, "Isildur, if I may be so bold to ask, why did you do it? And how? How did you manage to reach the inner courts of the King undetected?" She took a seat in the chair at his bedside, waiting for an answer.

"You are not too bold; I am surprised that you have not approached the subject earlier." Isildur gave her a brief, reassuring smile before his face turned to a more serious expression and he asked, "But why do you ask 'why'? Do you not know?"

"Well, yes, I suppose I know why you did it -- perhaps what I am trying to ask is how did you find the courage? I could not imagine performing such a feat myself."

"Ah," he replied, "I am not so sure that you would call it courage; a rash decision would be more accurate. Though hopefully, a rash decision in line with Eru's will."

"How could it not be?" Lienilde replied. Was he trying to appear humble, or did he truly not know whether he had made the right decision? Lienilde suspected it was the former, but said anyway, "Without your action, Nimloth would be lost, and I doubt there is much else on this isle with such deep roots in Valinor. But now a seed of Nimloth has been planted, and when it sprouts perhaps it will give us some yet unseen hope."

"You are right," he replied, the smile returning to his face. He was clearly not embarrassed to hear such praise, as she would be.

After a brief pause, Lienilde asked, "But you have still not told me how you managed to perform such an act."

"That is a rather long story," said Isildur. "Do you wish to hear it all?"

"Of course! I have visited you every day for nearly three months now, and I have always wondered about what exactly happened that night."

"Very well," Isildur began, leaning his head back against the pillow, apparently getting comfortable for a long tale. "I am not sure how much my grandfather told you, so I will start at the beginning.

"One day, a messenger came from Armenelos to inform my grandfather that Sauron was attempting to persuade Ar-Pharazon to chop down Nimloth. Grandfather was deeply troubled for he knew that no one would be able to prevent Sauron's will from being done, and he shared his fears with us. At that time, Anarion and I knew little of Nimloth's history, and we stayed awake until nearly sunrise as Grandfather told us the story. I am sure that he told you something of Nimloth's history as well?"

"Yes," Lienilde answered. "Not the whole story, but enough to know that it was descended from one of the Two Trees of Valinor, and he spoke of Tar-Palantir's prophecy."

"Then that is enough for now; perhaps I can tell you more during your next visit." Lienilde smiled at this, already looking forward to her history lessons. While she enjoyed her visits as of late, she had begun to wonder if they would ever discuss anything other than stories from their trade or family.

"We all retired at sunrise to get a few hours rest," Isildur continued. "But Grandfather's stories had awakened a fire in my heart. Not only did I share his despair over Nimloth's obvious fate, but I was angry: angry at Sauron's actions and angry that our King would allow such evil to enter our fair isle. The Valar themselves had raised Numenor from the sea, and now we have tossed aside all of their blessings--"

Lienilde rested her hand on Isildur's arm and he fell silent at her touch. She could see that the memories of that night had brought back powerful emotions, and she worried that the stress may be too much for him to bear in his already weakened state. "You need not continue, if you do not want to," she said softly.

"No, it is all right," Isildur replied, lowering his eyes. "I know you worry for my health, but do you not think that I have lain here day after day, recalling that night? Telling the story will be no more harmful than thinking of it."

Lienilde simply nodded and allowed him to continue, for she knew he was right.

"I did manage to sleep for a few hours, for I was quite exhausted after hearing Grandfather's stories. I awoke before the rest of my family, and almost immediately a plan began to form in my mind. I knew I had not the power to stop Sauron, but I thought surely I could do something to lessen the Valar's wrath against the line of Elros. The messenger that had come to my grandfather the previous day was a low-ranking member of the palace guard. I managed to enter his guest quarters at my grandfather's house and took his uniform while he was out. Although in hindsight, I hope that the messenger had an extra uniform, for it was in no condition to be worn again when I returned."

Lienilde recalled that when she had first seen Isildur, he wore only a pair of loose-fitting pants; apparently his family had already removed the uniform and hidden it. Recalling the blood on the sheets that day, she could only imagine how stained the uniform must have been.

"I then rode one of my grandfather's horses to Armenelos, for I had visited the city before and knew the way. It was a long ride, and past sunset on the second day when I arrived. I left the stallion near the borders of the city, hidden in a valley, hoping no one would find him that late at night. I then made my way into the city by foot. I knew that guards were ever present in the inner court that housed Nimloth, and I was not sure whether the uniform I had borrowed would match theirs. I did have enough foresight to bring a scarf to hide my face, and I am certain that was the only reason my deed was not found out."

Isildur paused for a moment. He had told the beginning of his tale without much emotion, but now Lienilde could see the memories of the next events were affecting him more, though his exact thoughts remained hidden from her. Was he recalling the fear and anger he felt that night? For surely he felt fear not only for the fate of Nimloth but for himself as well. Or was it some other emotion Lienilde saw in his eyes? Unsure of what he was thinking, she simply remained silent and waited for him to finish his story. It was not long before Isildur spoke again.

"I -- I think it was at that moment that the weight of what I was about to do finally dawned on me." Isildur fell silent again, recalling how he had then asked Eru to bless his quest and to forgive the sins of Numenor, though he did share that rather personal memory with Lienilde. He did not notice that a slight sheen formed in his eye at the recollection.

However, Lienilde did notice and began to realize what had gone through his mind that night, and even what he was feeling at this moment. Ever since she had first heard of Isildur's deed she had known he was a compassionate man, but to hear him tell the story touched her heart even much more than simply hearing it from Amandil. Lienilde blinked to hide the tears forming in her own eyes, and reached out and took his hand in hers. Isildur glanced at her and gave her a brief smile, then turned his eyes away. He had been hesitant to look at her while he told his story; likely he did not want Lienilde to see all of his emotions. Perhaps he had not even realized how telling the story would affect him until now.

However, the emotion left his voice as quickly as it appeared and he went on. "Even if my uniform would allow me to enter the courts of the Tree, I could not devise a reason to visit the Tree so late at night. Thus I simply prayed that my guise would allow me to enter the palace of the King, but once I arrived at the place of the Tree I knew I would need to rely on stealth."

Isildur paused yet again, recalling what had happened next. When he arrived at the gate of the palace and was met with two guards, he had suddenly panicked. He then realized that his plan was not as thought-out as he believed: he did not know whether he should initiate a greeting with the guards, or if there was a required pass phrase. Rather than incriminate himself with the wrong words, he tried to appear as a calm, confident guard of the palace. To his relief, they had allowed him to enter without saying a word, and it was at that moment that he knew that Eru must have heard his prayer for protection. However, that moment of weakness in his plan was still a point of embarrassment for him, and thus he omitted it from his story, simply telling Lienilde that the guards allowed him to pass through the gate into the outer courtyard. However, there was another embarrassing moment later in his story, which he could not omit when he came to it.

"The courtyard was beautiful, Lienilde," he then said, turning his face toward her, forgetting his previous thoughts for the moment. "When I entered the gate and realized I was alone in the courtyard, I could not help but pause and admire its splendor. The great hall of the King stood before me, a tall, ornately decorated structure of pale gray stone. Elvish influences were readily apparent in the architecture, though I am afraid it only served to remind me of Numenor's fall. Trees and bushes were scattered throughout the open areas, and I longed to see the courtyard under the light of the sun. The beauty of nature was such a contrast to the manmade towers of stone. I wish you could see it some day," he finished his little speech with a slight smile.

"I would love to," Lienilde replied.

"But I digress. As I surveyed the courtyard, I spied a stone wall, not much taller than the height of a man, the top branches of Nimloth just visible behind it. I knew it to be Nimloth, for no other tree would shine as silver under the starlight. Another tree grew beside the wall, and I realized I could scale the tree to enter the inner court where Nimloth grew. I hoped that the guard would be stationed outside the gate to Nimloth's court and that they would not notice my entrance over the side wall -- surely they would suspect an intruder to try to enter through the gate.

"It took me some time to climb the tree, for I had to be as quiet as possible. When I reached the top of the wall I was elated to see that there were no guards present in the inner court -- they were just outside the gate, expecting any intruder to enter there. I grabbed a low-hanging branch of the tree and dropped to the ground, and fortunately a recent rain had moistened the ground enough to soften the noise of my fall.

"I paused for a moment simply to gaze upon Nimloth. I could hardly believe that I was finally in the place of the Tree -- Nimloth, descended from Galathilion, created by Yavanna in the likeness of the great Telperion. It was truly a magnificent sight: even though Nimloth was not in bloom so late in the autumn, the moonlight shone on its perfect fruit and delicate branches. And to think that it is now gone--"

A tear finally fell down Isildur's face and he closed his eyes for a moment. The sight of the young man crying touched Lienilde's heart as she wiped away her own tears. He truly was as compassionate as she believed.

Composing himself, he continued his story: "I approached the tree silently, and gently plucked one of the fruits and hid it in a leather pouch I had been carrying. I was so elated at completing my task, that I did not notice the exposed tree root until I tripped over it.

"I quickly stood up, but the guard had been aroused, and entered the court before I could make it back to the wall. They yelled for me to halt, but I obviously could not be found out and sprinted to the wall. I did not realize the guards had bows until an arrow pierced my shoulder. The Valar must have given me strength that night, for I managed to reach the wall and jump high enough to grab the branch of the tree. I swung my feet against the wall and then pulled myself onto the branch, unable to scale the wall in such an awkward position. I locked eyes with one of the guards at that moment and prayed that the darkness and the scarf concealed my face. As I stumbled onto the top of the wall another arrow hit my leg and I jumped to the ground." He did not say that he fell rather than jumped, but Lienilde guessed as much, remembering the bruises she had seen when she first treated him, and doubted his agility with two arrows still in his body.

"The guards at the main gate of the palace had also been alerted to my presence. I was forced to draw my sword against them if I was to leave the main courtyard. When the first guard approached me, our swords met with a clang that likely awakened the entire courtyard. We fought for a moment, his sword striking me once or twice, I hardly remember now, before I twisted his blade from his grasp and faced the second guard. He seemed to hesitate, surprised at his comrade's quick defeat, and without a thought I swung my sword in a wide arc, the tip of my blade tearing his across his midsection. I hope now that I did not injure him too badly, but at the time I could see no other means of escape -- the guard quickly fell to his knees and I was then able to exit through the gate."

Lienilde realized with a start that this must have been the injured guard whom the King's Man told her about so many weeks before. She realized that she had thought little of the guard as of late, even though her mind was so preoccupied with him after her meeting with the King's Man. Yet she never learned the guard's fate, and thus she remained silent -- though she suspected that the guard had survived, for surely the search would have doubled if the perpetrator became a murderer! But Isildur did not notice her reaction and immediately continued with his story.

"I had been to Armenelos several times with my grandfather and knew the city streets well. I raced through the small streets behind the marketplace, eluding any palace guard that may have joined the chase late. There were few people awake at that time but they did nothing to stop me, knowing not what had just transpired at the palace. Thus when I reached the edge of the city and made my way to my horse, no one followed me."

Isildur's voice had quickened as he told the tale of his escape from the guards, but now it slowed as he finished the climax of the tale.

"I was too tired to remove my guard's uniform so I simply wrapped my cloak around me and prayed no one would notice. I also broke the shafts of the arrows, but could not remove them completely. It was nearly sunrise when I departed the city. The ride home was very long, I am not even sure how many days it took for I remember little of it. I avoided the main highway for the most part, and with my wounds I could not bear that my horse travel any faster than a walk. When I arrived in Romenna I again took the less-traveled roads to avoid the King's guards on the main streets. The last thing I remember was arriving at Grandfather's door and giving him the fruit of Nimloth -- and my next memory is of your face." Isildur then turned to smile at Lienilde, and she could not help but return the smile. So he did remember her from the night he first awoke!

"You are truly a brave man," she replied, still holding his hand. "I know the Valar will reward your effort."

"Thank you," he replied, then sighed and closed his eyes. Lienilde and Isildur then sat silent for a moment, unmoving. Lienilde gazed down at Isildur's face and once again marveled that such a young man could perform such a heroic deed; he could not have been much older than Ardil. At that thought, she considered how she would respond if her brother had been the one to save a fruit of Nimloth and return home so near to death. She recalled the fear she had seen in the eyes of Isildur's family on that first day and suddenly began to understand their pain. Not that she had been unsympathetic before, far from it in fact, but she now realized that for them to watch their son and brother on his deathbed after carrying out such a selfless act would have been incredibly difficult. Rather than praising him for his effort and boasting of his deed to their friends, they were praying for his life and keeping his story secret.

Brushing a stray hair from Isildur's face, Lienilde stood and said softly, "Thank you for sharing with me. I should go, and leave you to your rest." Isildur slowly nodded without opening his eyes, obviously exhausted from telling the long tale and reliving such a night. With that, Lienilde left the quiet house to return to her own home, with many thoughts running through her mind, many of the same thoughts as when Amandil had first told her of Isildur's sacrifice.

* * *

_"But when Amandil heard rumour of the evil purpose of Sauron he was grieved to the heart, knowing that in the end Sauron would surely have his will. Then he spoke to Elendil and the sons of Elendil, recalling the tale of the Trees of Valinor; and Isildur said no word, but went out by night and did a deed for which he was afterwards renowned. For he passed alone in disguise to Armenelos and to the courts of the King, which were now forbidden to the Faithful; and he came to the place of the Tree, which was forbidden to all by the orders of Sauron, and the Tree was watched day and night by guards in his service. At that time Nimloth was dark and bore no bloom, for it was late in the autumn, and its winter was nigh, and Isildur passed through the guards and took from the Tree a fruit that hung upon it, and turned to go. But the guard was aroused, and he was assailed, and because he was disguised it was not discovered who had laid hands on the Tree. But Isildur came at last hardly back to Romenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him."_

_-The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion

* * *

_

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.

_I apologize for the delay -- I tried to upload this chapter several days ago, but kept giving me errors!_


	14. Family Matters

**Chapter 14: Family Matters**

The next day, Lienilde arrived at Isildur's home, looking forward to talking with him, perhaps hearing him tell of Nimloth's history. Elendil and Anarion were already home and preparing dinner, and Amandil had come to join them that evening. After a brief greeting to the three men -- for Lienilde saw them often and no further talk was required -- she made her way to Isildur's room.

She found him asleep, and was rather disappointed when he did not awake at her touch. She sighed and sat down on the familiar chair, too frustrated to examine his wounds quite yet. He had been alert and animated yesterday while he told his tale, but today he would not even awake. This was not the first such day either: while there had been many days on which Isildur seemed to show signs of improvement, there had also been several days when his fever would suddenly rise or his wounds would be unusually painful. Lienilde had been treating him for nearly three months now, and there had been little overall progress since the first two weeks. She began to wonder if her treatments were even helping, and if he would be no worse if she simply quit caring for him. Even Vorime was at a loss, not knowing what else they could do to help him. Lately Vorime had expressed concern over Isildur's seemingly unchanging condition, and worried about any lasting effects this long fever would have on him should he recover. But Lienilde tried not to think such thoughts, for it was too saddening. It was easier to simply treat him day by day, not worrying about the future.

Lienilde was startled out of her reverie by the sound of footsteps at the door, and looked up to see Amandil walking toward her, his gaze moving between his sleeping grandson and the young healer.

"He is so slow to heal," Lienilde said, suspecting that Amandil had already read her thoughts. "Sometimes I wonder if I am even doing him any good."

Amandil stood beside her chair and put a hand on her shoulder, though he kept his eyes on Isildur. "Nonsense," he replied, "You have done all that you could. Though his recovery may seem slow now, I am certain that you helped save his life during the first few hours. And if nothing else--" Lienilde looked up to see a slight smile form on his face--"he looks forward to your visits."

"Thank you," she replied, her eyes returning to Isildur's sleeping form. He had shifted slightly at their words, but had not fully awakened.

Amandil patted her shoulder and then left the room, sensing she that she was not in the mood to talk further. After a moment Lienilde finally stood and checked his wounds, and after a quick farewell to his family, she began a slow walk home.

* * *

Lienilde was able to head home a little earlier than normal that evening and she suspected that she would still have an hour before her mother had supper on the table. However, as she approached her house, she saw her father seated on a bench in the otherwise empty garden plot near their house. He was obviously deep in thought, and Lienilde knew that from that bench one could see glimpses of the sea between the neighboring houses and shops. She had often sat on that bench to think herself, though normally not in such chill weather.

Mandil did not hear her approach until she was quite near. "Father?" she asked once he turned her way. "Is everything all right?"

"Ai, I suppose," he answered with a sigh. "I am just thinking."

Normally Lienilde would take that as her cue to leave, but this time she sensed that maybe her father wanted to say more. She took a seat next to him on the bench, wrapping her cloak tighter around her body. While it was slightly warmer than days past, a cold wind still blew in from the sea. Lienilde said nothing, and they sat a moment in silence, staring off into the distant gray waves.

Finally Mandil spoke. "I guess I am just worried about how I have raised you children."

"What do you mean?" Lienilde replied, looking up at her father.

Mandil knew he could not give a simple answer, so he immediately launched into an explanation. "You know I have always taught you the beliefs of the Faithful, though perhaps not as thoroughly as I should have. However, I never have been involved with the doings of the Faithful, not like your friend Elendil, and Amandil. When I married your mother, I did not want to risk her safety, and after Ardil was born that resolve was only strengthened. Yes, as of now I suppose all that has happened is the Faithful's practical banishment here to Romenna, but I always worried that someday the persecution would be worse. But now -- now I wonder if I should have done something more, if I should have taught you by my actions rather than just my words, or even if I should have just spoken to you more about it."

"I am not sure I understand," Lienilde replied. She comprehended what he had said so far, but she was not sure why he was suddenly so concerned, not now that two of his three children were adults. Indeed, she and Ardil had received few lessons on the beliefs of the Faithful and on the history of Numenor since they were small children.

"Lienilde," he said, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. "I am not worried about you; in fact I am very proud of what you have done these last few months. But -- well, it is Ardil I am concerned about," he finished hesitantly.

"Why?" Lienilde asked, though her heart sunk as she already suspected his answer.

"We have had several conversations in the smithy this week, and it seems that Inzil's parents have joined the worship of Melkor. Inzil and Ardil are considering following them."

"Oh Father," she replied, at a loss for words. She and Ardil had never talked much about their beliefs, but she had always assumed that he shared the same faith as their father. Though Mandil had never been extremely outspoken about his beliefs in front of his children, he had taught them enough for Lienilde to know that worshipping Melkor was the wrong path. To think of Ardil now taking that path, like many of her patients, came as a shock to her. When Mandil remained silent, Lienilde spoke again, "We may no longer be children, Father, but you can still influence us. Do not count Ardil as lost just yet."

"Thank you," he replied. "In my heart, I know you are right, but it has just been hard for me to accept that he would even consider it."

"I know; it seems strange to me too. Yet in a way, perhaps it is not so surprising, for I think that even many of the Faithful have still heard Sauron's lies and also fear death: perhaps not in the same way as the others, but they feel fear nonetheless."

Lienilde said no more, but Mandil guessed her thoughts. She had spent much time with Isildur's family, and Mandil suspected that they had been very worried about his fate. Mandil knew that while he feared death little for himself, he would be distraught if death stole one of his children before their time. Knowing that death was the Gift of Man would be little consolation if he could never see his children again. Perhaps Sauron's lies had a greater influence than they realized. However, he could think of nothing to say in reply to his daughter's observation, so instead he returned to the thoughts that had originally been on his mind: "And what of Failon? Which way will he turn as he grows older?"

"But he is still young," Lienilde replied, "You have much time to influence him -- perhaps even influence him in a different way than you did with me or Ardil. Although, I have confidence in Failon: he was very concerned about Nimloth's sacrifice, and I do not believe he will turn away."

"I agree," Mandil said, "But still -- Ai, let us think no more on it. There is no use sitting here, dwelling in the past."

Lienilde simply nodded in reply, and Mandil gave her a pat on the knee and then stood. "Thank you for listening to your old man's ramblings," he said as Lienilde rose also. "You have become quite the young woman as of late, and I meant what I said earlier, when I said I was proud of you. I daresay that you have done more these last few months to help the cause of the Faithful than I have done in many years."

At this, Lienilde felt her cheeks warm despite the cold air. "Thank you, but I am who I am because of your teachings, and Mother's."

"Ah yes, speaking of your mother, let us go see if she has supper ready yet. It is too cold to remain out here for much longer." Though his words were light, his eyes told her that he appreciated her thanks.

"I completely agree," Lienilde replied, for she had been ready to go inside quite some time ago. So with that, they returned to the house and the warm fire within.

* * *

They soon realized it would still be some time until supper, so they both went and sat by the fire for a moment. Ardil and Inzil had already arrived for dinner. Ardil was seated on the floor playing a game of chess with Failon near the fire, Mandil took a seat nearby and soon began whittling a block of wood, and Inzil and Melde were preparing dinner in the kitchen. With the exception of Inzil's presence, it was a night no different than many others for as many winters as Lienilde could remember, and she nearly forgot the conversation she had had with her father just minutes before. The familiarity was comforting to her, and thus she made her way to the kitchen to see if she could assist her mother with dinner.

"Why hello, Lienilde," Inzil greeted her, hardly looking up from the potatoes she was chopping. "Vorime seems to be keeping you out rather late now a day; you should tell her that you do not need to work so hard." The smile on her face told Lienilde that she did not actually except the apprentice to confront her master so.

"There is--" Lienilde paused for an instant, considering her words, for they had never told Ardil and Inzil about what had happened to Isildur. "There is a patient I have been charged with," she continued. "He is rather ill, and it is my duty to check on him each evening."

"I see," Inzil answered. "It seems that you are well on your way to becoming a full-fledged healer then, and not just an apprentice."

"Perhaps," Lienilde answered.

Just then her mother interrupted: "Lienilde, please help Inzil with the potatoes. They really should have entered the pot a few minutes ago."

Thus, the three women spent the next hour chatting in the kitchen and preparing the meal, while the men in the front room took turns playing chess and discussing their work at the smithy. Finally the family found themselves seated at the table, ready to eat a hearty meal of fish stew.

Not long after the meal began, the small talk died down as Ardil spoke up with an announcement: "We have some news to share, but we wanted to wait until everyone was gathered in one room." The family looked up in anticipation, and Ardil smiled at his wife and continued: "Inzil is pregnant."

"Oh that is wonderful!" Melde immediately exclaimed, jumping up and running to the other side of the table to hug her son and daughter-in-law. Lienilde and Mandil also offered their congratulations. Failon, on the other hand, simply remarked, "Well, that didn't take long," which resulted in a simultaneous elbow in the ribs from Lienilde and a stern glare from his mother. Ardil and Inzil either did not notice Failon's comment or did not care; they simply beamed with joy.

"The baby should be born in early autumn," Inzil said, which resulted in a barrage of questions from Melde about the preparations that would need to be made. After a moment of listening, Lienilde glanced over at her father, who had remained mostly silent -- of course, few could get a word in edgewise with Melde's constant chatter. Mandil was smiling and was obviously happy at the news, but Lienilde could also see a hint of sadness in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking: he was already worried about Ardil and Inzil's spiritual state, and now there would be a child to worry about as well. She locked eyes with him a moment, showing that she understood his thoughts, and he gave a slight nod in return.

She then turned toward her elder brother, who had already fallen out of the conversation as Melde and Inzil discussed the baby that would soon be coming, seemingly ignoring the others at the table. Ardil smiled and trading a knowing glance with his younger sister; Melde was more excited now than when the couple had announced their betrothal. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Ardil and Inzil were finally able to return to their own home late in the night, once Melde was satisfied that they had already begun the considerations required before the baby was born. By the time they left it was already decided that Inzil's father would build the baby's cradle while Melde would spend the next several months sewing clothes and blankets for the infant. Lienilde was surprised that her parents did not donate the cradle and clothes they had used when Lienilde and her brothers were infants. Were her parents still hoping for another child? Even though Failon was young, her parents were reaching the end of their childbearing years, so she found that doubtful. However, that was a question she would never feel comfortable asking her parents, so she quickly put it out of her mind.

After the family had retired -- though Lienilde could hear whispers from her parents' room and suspected that Melde would keep her husband awake even longer with talk of the baby -- Lienilde sat at her windowsill for a few minutes before climbing into her own bed. She was happy to hear her brother's news and certainly looked forward to meeting the baby and becoming an aunt, but as of late it seemed that no matter what happy news she received, her joy was always clouded by thoughts of Isildur, still confined to his bed. And why did she always look forward to seeing him even though the sight of his suffering always saddened her heart? Her thoughts often seemed contradictory: sometimes she believed that her life would be so much simpler if Isildur was not in it; other days she was so glad to have met him. She sighed and slid into bed; another night of thinking would not resolve the issues that had troubled her mind for so many weeks. She instead tried to cheer herself with the thought that perhaps tomorrow Isildur would be well enough to tell her about the history of Nimloth.

* * *

True to his word, Isildur began the story of Nimloth during Lienilde's next visit, when his fever had lowered and he was more alert. Amandil had stayed up all night telling the family about Nimloth's history on that fateful night three months ago, and now Isildur seemed determined to relay every detail to Lienilde. He told her of the creation of Telperion and Laurelin and how they lit the world with alternating silver and golden light before the days of the sun. He spoke of Galathilion the tree of Tirion, created in the image of Telperion, and of its descendant Celeborn in Tol Eressea, and finally of Celeborn's scion Nimloth. He even recalled some of the history of Feanor's Silmarils, created with the light of the Two Trees, and of the resulting wars and tragedies that those precious stones brought to the world. Thus it took nearly three weeks worth of visits for him to finish the tale.

Of course, there were days when Isildur did not feel like talking much, and on those days Lienilde either let him sleep or entertained him with stories from her own life. She told him that Ardil and Inzil were expecting, and shared several humorous stories illustrating Melde's excitement and impatience for the baby to arrive.

Lienilde soon realized that her visits with Isildur were now lasting longer -- she was not quite sure when it began, but now she always stayed long enough to hear or tell just one more story, even if Isildur did not require much care that day. But as the worst of winter passed and the days slowly grew warmer in preparation for spring, Lienilde found herself with fewer patients to attend to and more time to spend with Isildur.

Even her time at home began to fall into a pattern. Her mother had recruited her to help make the baby's clothes. Lienilde had never been an expert seamstress but she could knit decently, so she spent the evenings slowly knitting a blanket made of soft blue and yellow yarn. She was actually rather grateful for the change; during the winter months Failon tried to play chess with her nearly every night since it was too cold for him to play outside. Now it was Mandil and occasionally Ardil that were forced to suffer his attacks, though on some nights Mandil instead gave Failon lessons in whittling, so that maybe the boy would develop another interest that he could practice indoors. Lienilde did have a desire to speak to Ardil about the Melkor worship, but she never seemed to have the courage to start the conversation. In the end, she decided she would leave it to her father -- she suspected that Ardil had a much closer relationship with their father than with her, after spending the last few years working with him in the smithy. Thus, those three weeks passed in a fairly happy contentment for Lienilde as she waited patiently for the warm days of spring to arrive, though her heart was never truly free from her worry for Isildur, for the fate of Numenor, and now for her own elder brother.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.

* * *

_I apologize for the sporadic updates after promising weekly updates in the first chapter, and I'm afraid it's not going to be any better since we are moving in a few weeks and have already started packing! But I will update when I can, and hopefully this summer I will get back to regular updates. There are actually only six chapters left anyway, so I should be able to post the last chapter sometime this summer!_


	15. Sauron's Worst Deed

**Chapter 15: Sauron's Worst Deed**

The day after Isildur finished his tale of Nimloth's history, Lienilde arrived at his home to once again find Isildur alone in the house, for the days were lengthening and Elendil and Anarion spent more time at the shipyards as of late. When she entered Isildur's room she saw that he was awake and sitting up in bed, yet his head was turned away, and he did not look at her when she arrived.

"Isildur," she asked hesitantly, worried at this change in his demeanor, "is something wrong?"

Isildur sighed and finally turned to face her, a sadness clearly visible on his face. Lienilde was puzzled but said nothing for a moment, waiting to see if he would answer. Finally he spoke: "It seems that this time, I must be the one to bear ill tidings to you."

Lienilde's heart seemed to skip a beat at his words. She recalled the day she had told him of Nimloth's fate on Sauron's altar, and she wondered what terrible event had now occurred to cause him such sorrow. "Isildur, you are frightening me," she said, sitting in the chair at his bedside. "Please tell me, what are these ill tidings?"

"Sauron has--" Isildur paused, and then seeming to find the courage to continue, said, "Sauron has offered his first human sacrifice to Melkor."

"Human sacrifice?" Lienilde repeated, stunned. Her stomach turned at the thought -- she had seen smoke rising from Armenelos the day before and knew that Sauron must have offered some burnt offering, but she had assumed it was another plant offering, or maybe an animal, for she had heard of such things being done by some of the peoples on the shores of Middle-Earth -- but never did she suspect a human being!

"The victim was one of the Faithful," Isildur continued, his voice strangely devoid of emotions, "though he was falsely accused of some crime first. Sauron says that human sacrifices will free the land from death--"

"But that is madness!" Lienilde interrupted, tears already visible in her eyes, her heart pounding at the thought. She suddenly stood up, too upset to remain seated. Of all of the dreadful news that had come out of Armenelos during the past four months, this was by far the worst. Isildur said nothing, and his silence only aggravated her more. The thoughts that had troubled her heart as of late suddenly began to pour out: "It seems as if every time I find reason to hope, or begin to forget Sauron's works and enjoy my life, some horrible news comes to break my heart again! I can hardly stand it -- for the past four months it seems like all I have done is weep over Numenor's fall, and worry about our fate, and Ardil's, and -- and worry about _you_! Sometimes I wish I had not met you -- at least then there would be one less burden on my heart!" She turned her back to him and put a hand over her eyes, for she did not want him to see her cry.

Isildur's eyes widened at her outburst. "Lienilde, please," he said softly, attempting to calm her. He longed to climb out of bed and hold her, but he knew he could not. He reached out a hand but she did not see. "I did not know it would upset you so--"

"How could you not know?" Lienilde snapped, now angry at the ignorance she perceived in her patient. Why was he not as disturbed at this news as she was? She turned to face him, but only briefly. "This is Sauron's worst deed yet -- do you not realize that he now has excuse to hunt down every last one of the Faithful? We cannot hide forever! How could this _not_ upset me? Or you?"

"Of course it upsets me, Lienilde!" Why did she not see his pain? Her words pierced his heart, and suddenly he was angry that after spending so much time together she could not see how such news would hurt him. "Why would you--"

"Just let me think on this," she replied, rather harshly, not truly hearing his words, so deep was she in her own thoughts. She turned to leave, wishing to be alone with her grief and self-pity.

"Lienilde!"

Lienilde froze when she heard her name spoken with an authority she could never have imagined coming from the injured young man. Neither spoke or even moved for a brief moment, and the room grew quieter as Lienilde's sobbing lessoned. Finally, she slowly turned to face him, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"Lienilde," Isildur repeated, his voice softer but still containing an underlying sternness. "After four months, I had thought that the one thing you knew about me is that I _do_ care." He said no more, but sat unmoving, awaiting her answer.

Lienilde looked at the young man who held her in his gaze so intently, though she soon found herself forced to look away in shame. For in the brief moment that their eyes met, she had seen not only his anger, but his pain. He was right, and she had been foolish not to see it. For how could he not care about Sauron's doings after risking his life in Armenelos? He must have hidden his emotions from her, hoping not to upset her.

"I am sorry," she finally said, "I do know you better than that. I was -- I mean, it is just that--" Wringing her hands in exasperation, she gave up on words for a moment and returned to the chair at Isildur's bedside, lacking the strength to stand while she tried to explain her many thoughts. She felt Isildur's hand rest on her own, and looking up she saw a slight smile on his face. She knew then that he had forgiven her for her outburst, and that he cared enough to know what she was thinking. That was the encouragement she needed to continue.

"I was scared, Isildur," she finally said. "I had images of Sauron's soldiers arresting every last member of the Faithful, in Armenelos, in Romenna--" She wiped her eyes as the tears threatened to return. "And I have experienced so much heartache as of late! I have often tried to ignore it but..." Her voice trailed off and finally she broke into tears. It had been a long time since she had simply sat and cried, and her heart needed a release from all of the painful emotions that it had kept pent up until now. Isildur said nothing and simply held her hand, and for that she was thankful.

After several long moments of crying, her mind began to wander back to the hurtful things she had said to Isildur earlier that night. For her earlier words were true, even if she should not have spoken them: she was just so weary from everything she had heard and felt these past four months. Whenever she was not considering the recent ill tidings from Armenelos, she was worrying about Isildur. Just seeing his face every day brought so many emotions to her heart, both good and bad. Today more than ever she just wished that she could return to the life she had before she met Isildur. Yes, four months ago she had been naive about the goings-on at Armenelos, but she had also been happier, and life had been so much simpler. She had been only a girl: a daughter, a sister, an apprentice, and nothing more. Her world had been small, and Sauron and the King were distant people who had affected her not. Yet she knew that she must apologize for her outburst to her patient.

"Isildur," she finally said as her tears subsided, "I did mean what I said, even though I should not have been so -- so angry." She was finding it hard to apologize, though she knew it was the right thing to do. Yet suddenly, her mind returned to the day that they had learned of Nimloth's fate as a burnt offering. She realized that she had reacted to the news of the human sacrifice in much the same way that Anarion had reacted to hearing of the sacrifice of the White Tree. However, she also remembered the hope that she had given Anarion -- or more correctly, the hope that Isildur had given them both.

"I have spent many long hours worrying about you," she said, "and about what is happening in Armenelos and in the hearts of our own people. Sometimes I do wish that I had not met you, because I wish my life could return to what it was before." She did not look at him as she spoke these last few words but quickly continued: "But what I keep forgetting is that even if we had not met, Sauron would have still performed his terrible acts. And then I would have no hope -- for you have given me hope, Isildur, to know that there are still people who are strong enough to fight Sauron and hold to the beliefs of old."

Lienilde finally looked up to see his reaction. "Thank you," Isildur answered, giving her hand a quick squeeze. He considered her words for a moment and then added, "Sometimes I fail to remember all the burdens that you must be bearing."

"But you are my patient," she replied, suddenly remembering her place and feeling slightly guilty for showing her true emotions, "and I should not have distressed you so -- I should be the one giving strength to you."

"Is that what you believe?" Isildur then asked as he released her hand, his expression changing. The sadness was still visible in his eyes, but there was another emotion as well, one that Lienilde could not read, and she wondered at this.

"What do you mean?" she said, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks.

"Why do you think you should give me strength, as you say?"

Lienilde glanced at him, confused at this sudden change in topic. "Why, because you are my patient, and I am the healer, of course."

"Is that how you think of me? As only your patient?" He paused, then lowered his voice slightly and continued, "I had hoped that by now, you would consider me a friend."

Lienilde could not help but smile slightly at this, touched by his words, especially in light of the anger she had shown toward him just moments before. "Of course," she replied, and at that a light appeared in Isildur's grey eyes. "But you must agree that you are also my patient. I suppose that sometimes it is hard for me to separate the two."

"That is understandable," he replied, returning her smile. However, the mood did not last long; the smiles soon fell from both of their faces. "It _has_ been a long four months," he then said, his voice low. Lienilde could see that he was growing tired but she let him keep talking. "We have all wept over Sauron's recent doings, but I guess I never realized how much you worried about me as well. I should not fault you for your earlier words: you have been very strong to endure so much."

Lienilde felt her face begin to flush. "Trust me, I am not as strong as you think -- tonight should have been evidence of that!"

"Then promise me something, Lienilde," Isildur then said.

"Yes?"

"Promise me that next time something happens, you will stay and let me comfort you."

Lienilde smiled. "Of course," she answered, resting her hand on his arm for a moment. She recalled the day that she had told him of Nimloth's fate, when she and Isildur had sat together and cried together. Suddenly she knew that his arms would be more of a comfort to her than anything else, and she wondered why she had been on the verge of leaving the house earlier that night. Where would she have gone? "It is strange," she said, "that about two months ago, I was able to remain so calm, and now -- now everything seems to make me want to weep!"

"But much has happened during these two months," Isildur said. "Two months ago your worries were limited to my health and the distant threat of Sauron. Cutting down Nimloth was a tragedy, to be sure, but nothing like what has transpired as of late. In fact, I am glad to see you upset -- it shows that you truly care for Numenor, and -- and for me."

"You are very perceptive," she said, unsure of how else to reply. Isildur's words were true, and suddenly she did not feel so weak for being so emotional. He was right: it had been a very long four months, and she only hoped that the future would hold happier days.

After a brief moment, she then stood. "It is growing late," she said, "and I still have not done what I came here to do."

Isildur nodded, obviously weary from the day's events, and fell silent as she examined his wounds. It was not long before Lienilde turned to leave. "Goodnight Isildur, and I will try to be in better humor tomorrow," she said, trying to end the night on a lighter note.

Isildur smiled briefly, though he did not open his eyes. "Goodnight, sweet Lienilde," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

* * *

Lienilde walked home slowly, contemplating the day's events. She had been slightly surprised when Isildur had called her "sweet Lienilde," but she soon forgot about it as her mind went to other, more depressing events. The news of Sauron's sacrifice still brought fear and sadness to her heart, yet now that the initial shock had worn off, she was able to stay more composed than she was earlier. When she arrived home, it was obvious that her family had not heard the news for they were all in a light-hearted mood, and Lienilde did not want to spoil the night. Thus she simply joined them in their conversations, trying to forget about the day's events. They would hear of the sacrifice soon enough.

* * *

_"Thereafter the fire and smoke went up without ceasing; for the power of Sauron daily increased, and in that temple, with spilling of blood and torment and great wickedness, men made sacrifice to Melkor that he should release them from Death. And most often from among the Faithful they chose their victims; yet never openly on the charge that they would not worship Melkor, the Giver of Freedom, rather was cause sought against them that they hated the King and were his rebels, or that they plotted against their kin, devising lies and poisons. These charges were for the most part false; yet those were bitter days, and hate brings forth hate."_

_The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion _

* * *

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.

_Author's Note: I apologize for the much delayed update! We didn't have internet access for a few weeks after we moved, and then I had to work some insane hours at work. But hopefully the remaining chapters will posted on a fairly regular schedule! Thank you for waiting so long and coming back to this story!_


	16. Opportunities

**Chapter 16: Opportunities**

The next few days passed slowly for Lienilde. Word of Sauron's human sacrifice soon spread through Romenna and was met with mixed reactions, very similar to when news of the temple's completion reached the city. Some people believed Sauron's words that the sacrifices would free the land from death and welcomed this new form of worship; others trembled in fear or anger, much like Lienilde had. Yet after dealing with emotional patients the day that the dark smoke had appeared over Romenna, she now had some experience hiding her thoughts from her patients. While Isildur may be an exception, she knew that she must appear calm and professional for her other patients. Even Vorime was impressed with her attitude.

During those days, Lienilde did not get much chance to speak with Isildur: Vorime accompanied her on one visit, and Isildur was too weak to speak much on the other visits. Finally a day arrived in which she did have an opportunity to talk to him. "Isildur," she began, not long after she had entered his room, "how are you feeling today?"

"The same," Isildur replied. "You really need not ask me each day; if perchance I do ever improve I will certainly tell you."

Lienilde sighed; he was obviously growing frustrated with his lack of progress. Not that she blamed him; she could not imagine spending nearly four months in bed herself. Just staying indoors for a week with the flu was enough to make her restless. She knew better than to continue this conversation, but she could think of nothing else to talk about. "I do not suppose you have heard any more tidings from Armenelos?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cringed. _He is already in a poor mood, why did I have to ask a question like that?_

"No," he replied curtly. "But let us not dwell on that. Tell me, how have you faired as of late?"

Relieved that she did not seem to upset him more than he already was, she answered, "I have survived. All of my patients seem to want to talk of Sauron's sacrifice, so it has been rather hard to think of anything else."

"Then let us speak of something else," he replied, then paused for a moment. "Is your mother still having you help with the preparations for the baby?"

"Of course -- I think my hands shall fall off soon from all the knitting!"

They both smiled and then fell silent; they were still finding it rather difficult to make light-hearted conversation. However, their talk seemed to spark some memory in Isildur, and his brow furrowed for a moment before he asked, "Lienilde, I had forgotten to ask you until now, but a few days ago when you -- well, you mentioned you were worried about Ardil. What did you mean by that?"

Lienilde, who had been busy changing his bandages, paused for a moment before answering. She knew what he was referring to: during their argument a few days prior, she had briefly mentioned she was worried about Ardil's fate. She sighed and sat down for a moment, leaving her work unfinished. "I have not spoken to Ardil about it, but my father told me that he and Inzil were considering worshipping Melkor as well."

"I see," Isildur answered, clearing thinking about her statement. "Why have you not spoken to him?"

"I do not know what I would say," she replied. "And besides, I believe Father has been speaking with him in the smithy. I just have not had the opportunity."

"Sometimes," Isildur answered, "you have to make your own opportunities."

"I suppose you are right," she replied, a hint of a smile reaching her lips, but only briefly. She could not help but think of the opportunity that he had "made" for himself in Armenelos four months prior.

They remained silent as Lienilde continued to change the bandages. She wanted to change the bandages on all of his wounds today, and that always took some time. Finally, she said, "I never properly thanked you for telling me of Nimloth's history."

"There is no need to thank me; I much enjoyed the telling."

"I know," she replied, finishing her work with the bandages and taking a seat beside him. "But I still appreciated it nonetheless. Though I do wonder what we shall speak of now; I had grown rather accustomed to your history lessons."

"Well then," he replied, "I shall think of another story for your next visit."

"I would like that," she answered with a smile. With that, she bid him farewell, and returned to her own home for the night, hoping that the next day would be more cheerful, for everyone involved.

* * *

Lienilde arrived home early that night, too early to even help her mother prepare supper. Thus it was not long before she found herself sitting on the bench in their garden, staring out across the hilltop, catching glimpses of the sea over the tops of the neighboring houses. Spring was slowly arriving, and though the air was still chill, it was not too cold to sit on the bench in the setting sun with a cloak wrapped around her shoulders. It was a peaceful spot to sit and sort through her many thoughts -- something she seemed to be doing a lot of, as of late.

However, it was not long before she heard footsteps coming up the path to house. She turned and saw Ardil and Inzil approaching the house; apparently they were joining the rest of the family for supper again. Inzil smiled at her then entered the house, but Ardil followed the path to the little garden and took a seat beside her on the bench.

"What brings you to this spot, little Lien?" he asked as he sat down.

"I am just thinking," she replied, not sure of what else to say. It suddenly struck her how far apart she and Ardil had grown in the last few years -- for there was little on her mind that she could speak with him about without a lengthy explanation first. She found it rather sad; they had been quite close when they were children, but once Ardil began his apprenticeship in the smithy and spent more time with Inzil, and later as Lienilde began her own apprenticeship, they simply had little time to spend together.

"How is your patient?" he asked after a moment of silence. "The one you have been treating so long -- Isildil?"

"Isildur," she immediately corrected, then paused. She had still not told Ardil what had really happened to him, especially now that she knew Inzil's family were openly worshiping Melkor. _Sometimes you have to make your own opportunities_. Isildur's words from earlier that day suddenly came to mind.

"Ardil, if I tell you something, will you keep it secret? Even from Inzil?"

Her brother raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised at her request. "Well, yes, I suppose so -- yes I will."

"I have already told Failon and our parents," she continued, "and that was probably already too many to tell..." Her voice trailed off; she was really just stalling as she thought of how to tell her brother of Isildur's secret. Finally she spoke again.

"Do you remember when Sauron cut down Nimloth four months ago?"

"Yes, of course," Ardil replied hesitantly.

Lienilde remembered the night she told her parents of Isildur's deed: how the stench of Nimloth's smoke filled the air, and how she wept as she told the story. She took a deep breath and continued, determined not to cry this time.

"A few days prior, Isildur's grandfather Amandil learned of Sauron's plans. Isildur entered the courts of the King in disguise, and managed to steal a fruit from Nimloth's branches. However, the guard was aroused, and he was seriously wounded when he fought them off and escaped. He has still not recovered from his injuries." Lienilde omitted that they had planted the fruit, but Ardil would probably deduce the fact easily enough.

"I see," Ardil replied after a short moment. "And I suppose that you do not want me to tell Inzil because of her family's loyalties."

"Well, yes, in a way," Lienilde admitted, "but also because the fewer people who know Isildur's secret, the safer he is. It is not that I do not trust Inzil; I think she is a wonderful woman--"

"I know, I know" Ardil cut her off with a wave of his hand. The siblings fell silent, for Lienilde could not read her brother's thoughts and did not know how to respond. She began to wonder why she had told him -- she had hoped it would segue into a conversation about the Faithful, but now she was not so sure. Suddenly she began to fear that she had made the wrong decision. Would her brother even keep Isildur's secret safe?

"Lienilde, do you ever fear death?"

Lienilde glanced up at her elder brother. The question was slightly unexpected, though not wholly out of place -- she suspected that he knew their father had told her about his considerations to join the Melkor worship, and that is why she told him about Isildur.

"At times, yes," she finally answered. "In my mind, I still believe that death is the Gift of Man, but it is hard not to experience fear when so many others are afraid. I have only had a few patients pass on, but all of their families were so distraught -- I know that none of them thought death was a gift."

The two were silent again as Ardil considered her words. Lienilde could tell that he appreciated her honest answer, and now she waited to hear his thoughts. "Our child is not even born yet," Ardil finally said, "but the more I think about his birth -- or her birth, I suppose -- the more I feel that death is something unnatural. How can anything that separates a son from his father, a wife from her husband, a man from his brother, be a gift?"

"I suppose that if death was the end of all things, then yes, such a separation could not be a gift," she replied. "But I do not think that is the case. The Eldar reunite with their loved ones after death; why should we think that Man is denied the same privilege?"

"The Elves," Ardil muttered quietly, with a bitter undertone that was not lost on Lienilde. She knew then that Ardil had come to believe Sauron's lies about the Elves: that Men were entitled to eternal life but the Elves and the Valar were keeping it from them. She sighed; apparently her and her brother's beliefs had grown further apart than she realized. Her apprehension about Isildur's safety slowly grew.

"How do we know what the Elves say is true?" Ardil then asked. "How do we know that the Valar have not placed the Ban upon us to prevent us from obtaining immortality? How can death be a gift when we all fear it so?"

"And how do you know that what Sauron says is true? His teachings go against all that we have been taught for generations!"

"You have been spending too much time with Isildur," Ardil then retorted, a hint of anger in his voice.

Lienilde started to speak but held her tongue. Her first instinct was to reply _And you spend too much time with Inzil!_ but realized that such a comment would lead nowhere, or at least nowhere that she wanted to go. So instead she answered, in a much softer voice than before, "Perhaps. But I believe we are both too easily influenced by those whom we care about."

Ardil paused and looked at his sister in surprise -- partly because she did not reply with the harsh comment he would have expected of her just a few years ago, and partly because it was obvious that she was including Isildur in the phrase "those whom we care about." She had hardly spoken to him of Isildur before this day, and Ardil did not realize until now that he was more to her than just a patient. He wondered at her change in demeanor, and he also realized how much he and his little sister had changed over the years.

"I am sorry," he replied, "I should not have said that. It is just that I have already had this same conversation with Father recently, multiple times actually, and I am growing weary of it."

"That is understandable," Lienilde answered.

"Let us forget about it for tonight, then." Ardil then stood and waited to see if his sister would do the same, but she remained seated on the bench.

"I would like to stay here for a moment longer," she answered.

"Of course," Ardil nodded his head in reply. He started to walk towards the house, then suddenly stopped and turned toward her. "You need not worry," he said. "Your secret is safe with me; I would never do anything that would hurt my little sister."

She looked up and smiled, suddenly relieved, for despite their differing viewpoints she knew that her brother was truthful. "Thank you," she replied, not knowing what else to say.

Ardil simply smiled and returned to the house.

Lienilde then drew her feet up onto the bench, and wrapped her skirts around her legs and her arms around her knees. The sun was setting, and the wind was quickly growing colder. However, she wanted just a little more time alone with her thoughts. Ardil's comments should not have surprised her after what her father had told her, yet it still saddened her to know that he believed Sauron's lies -- despite Ardil's words that they could not know whether the old Elven ways were the truth, she knew in her heart that they were. She wondered what he would have said of Sauron's recent human sacrifice, for she had a hard time believing that he could accept something that felt so inherently wrong to her. Yet she suspected he would have said the same as many of her Melkor-worshipping patients -- that sacrificing the lives of a few criminals was a small price to pay if it would entreat Melkor to give the rest of Numenor immortality. She had always looked up to Ardil, for he was her older brother and her only sibling for the first half of her life, but now she realized that she could no longer do so.

Yet in spite of all this, she also felt a strange sense of encouragement. She was glad that she was able to bring up the topic at all with Ardil, and that for the most part, their conversation had been very polite and civil. She knew that Ardil still cared enough for her that he would at least listen to her, even if he did not agree with her, and she knew that he would keep Isildur's secret. She also realized that in matters as serious as this, no one conversation would be able to turn the heart of another, but perhaps over time, Ardil would come to think differently. Perhaps over enough time, the Faithful could even turn the hearts of all the people in the Land of Gift.

* * *

**Notes:**

Land of Gift -- another name for Numenor, referring back to when the Valar first raised Numenor from the sea and gave it as a gift to the men who aided them in the war against Morgoth.

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	17. Scion of Nimloth

**Chapter 17: Scion of Nimloth**

The next day was a very long day for the young healer. Late in the afternoon, Vorime and her apprentice had to rush to the shipyards when a large beam fell and crushed a man's leg. They spent several hours carefully bandaging his leg and giving his family instructions for his care. Vorime was unsure whether the man would ever be able to walk again without a cane; it would likely be a few weeks until they would be able to tell. The news obviously saddened the man's family, and his wife feared that she would be caring for an invalid husband for many years. That incident combined with her patients' continued talk of Sauron's human sacrifice did nothing to brighten to her mood.

After the healers left the shipyards there were still a few patients to attend to. Thus it was long after sunset when Lienilde arrived at Elendil's home, tired from her long hours of work and saddened by the afternoon's events. At least the wind no longer bore the chill of winter; the coolness of early spring was now in the air and her cloak kept her plenty warm during the walk.

Lienilde was deep in her thoughts when she knocked on Elendil's door, and consequently it took her a moment to recognize the young man that answered her call. "Isildur!" she suddenly gasped, "What -- what are you doing out of bed?" Sure enough, her bedridden patient of four months stood tall and strong in the doorway, as if he had never been ill. A smile lit up his face, and Lienilde realized that he had been smiling ever since he first opened the door.

"I am healed, Lienilde," he answered. Before he could explain further, Lienilde interrupted.

"But how? What has happened? You cannot lie ill for four months and suddenly rise and be well!"

"Oh, but I have!" Isildur replied, the smile not leaving his face. "I think it would be easiest if I simply showed you something, rather than try to explain. You can leave your healer's bag here; you will not need it."

Lienilde obediently placed her bag just inside the door, too shocked to say anything else. Glancing inside the house, she saw Amandil, Elendil, and Anarion seated at the kitchen table, all sharing a smile as if they knew what Isildur was about to show her. Yet they said nothing, and Lienilde knew that she would have to receive the answers to her questions from Isildur himself.

"Follow me," Isildur said, and led her to the out buildings behind the house. They said nothing as they walked, and Lienilde was too dazed to ask any more questions. She simply walked beside him, occasionally glancing up at him, though he was determined in his step and did not return her glances. It suddenly struck her how tall Isildur was; she had never noticed his height since she had never even seen him stand before. Though it should not have surprised her, for the rest of his family was tall as well. His father was known as Elendil the Tall for good reason.

Lienilde's thoughts soon returned to the task at hand as Isildur opened the door to the shed where Amandil and Elendil had planted the seed of Nimloth. That day seemed so long ago, and she suddenly realized that she had not come to the shed since the fruit was planted.

They silently entered the tiny building and Isildur shut the door behind them. Lienilde's eyes immediately went to the dirt at their feet. Though it was dark, there was enough moonlight for her to see a seedling tree growing in the center of the shed. Nimloth's fruit had already sprouted. Small white branches rose from the dirt, no longer than the width of a man's palm, and a single silver leaf rested on the highest branch, shining in the moonlight. Several tiny buds bore a promise of more leaves to come.

"The leaf first opened this morning," Isildur said softly. She glanced up to see that his smile had been replaced with a more reverent look. She felt a sense of awe in his voice, and of gratitude. "When I awoke this morning, the pain was gone, and my fever had left me. Indeed, look--" Lienilde turned as he pulled up his shirt to reveal one of his wounds. The open sore had closed and faded, leaving behind only a tiny scar. "They all look like that."

"Eru has heard our prayers," she replied, finally understanding what had happened. "Your deed was not without reward, then."

"Yes," Isildur replied, then fell silent. They both sensed that no more words were necessary, for each knew the other's thoughts. Lienilde turned, her gaze returning to Nimloth's seedling. Isildur stepped closer, and then gently put his arm around her shoulder.

Lienilde nearly trembled at his touch and she could not stop a smile from forming on her face. There was something surreal about this moment, standing in the moonlight with her miraculously healed patient. No, not a patient -- he was much more than that to her now. He was a heroic man who had risked his life to avert Nimloth's fate, and perhaps even more importantly, he was her friend.

After a moment, though, Lienilde suddenly began to consider what would happen next. She would no longer need to visit him, and though she was thrilled that he had recovered, the thought of not seeing him every day saddened her. She wanted to tell Isildur how she felt, but was not sure how, nor was she sure if he shared her feelings. With a sigh, she said, "I suppose you will not be needing my services any longer."

Isildur glanced down at her, reading her thoughts; for indeed, his thoughts were much the same. He had anxiously awaited her arrival all evening so that he could show her Nimloth's seedling, and while he was happy she was here, he too wondered what the future would hold. However, unlike Lienilde, he had already been pondering such questions all day.

"No," Isildur replied. "I suppose not. However, I thank you greatly for your care these last few months, and -- well, I would be pleased if you occasionally stopped by to visit. You have been a good friend, Lienilde."

Lienilde's face lit up at his words. "Thank you," she replied, finally turning to face him, "I will look forward to seeing you again."

Isildur, his arm still around Lienilde's shoulders, then drew her to him in an embrace. Lienilde was slightly startled but soon relaxed in his arms, and even wrapped her arms lightly around his waist, then gradually held him tighter. All the thoughts that had troubled her earlier that day, and indeed for the past week, vanished as she just focused on Isildur's warm arms around her, and the rise and fall of his chest as she leaned her head against him.

After a short moment, Isildur released her. "It is late," said he. "Your parents are probably wondering where you are."

"Of course," Lienilde replied, the magic of the moment fading as she realized he was right. She did not want to leave but knew she must. It was a rare occurrence that Vorime would keep her out so late and her parents were surely expecting her home by now. "I should be leaving, just let me fetch my bag--"

"Wait," Isildur interrupted, then nervously smiled, embarrassed that he had cut her off. "That is, may I walk you home? A lovely young woman such as yourself should not be out alone so late at night."

Lienilde felt her face flush slightly at his flattery. Though she knew he was being polite, for she had walked home alone every night after she treated him without protest -- or was it more than simply politeness? She suspected it was. "That would be wonderful," she replied with a smile.

They walked back to the house in silence, though it was such a short distance that the silence did not feel awkward. When they arrived at the house, Isildur stepped inside to fetch Lienilde's bag and to inform his family of his intentions, and they turned to leave.

"You need not carry my bag," Lienilde spoke up after a moment, when she realized that Isildur had no plans to return her healer's supplies.

"Nonsense, I will keep it," Isildur said. Lienilde simply smiled in reply. She had never seen Isildur so cheerful or so, so _charming_, was the first word that came to her mind, especially considering how depressed he had been as of late. She was still rather flabbergasted and not quite sure how to react.

"What kept you today?" Isildur finally spoke, breaking the short silence. "You were rather late coming to my home; I was beginning to wonder if you would come at all."

"Of course I would come!" Lienilde defended herself, though the tone of his voice told her that he had never seriously doubted her arrival. "There was an accident at the shipyards this afternoon which delayed me." She said no more, not wanting to ruin the happy evening with such tales.

Isildur sensed her thoughts, for he had seen her act this way during some of her visits. Sometimes she did not wish to discuss such depressing cases and simply remained silent; on other days she opened up to him and vented her frustrations, seemingly forgetting that he was a patient himself. Isildur was always happy to oblige, though, for he knew that she had few friends outside of her family, and sometimes a girl just needed to talk to someone besides her mother.

"Say no more, if you wish," he replied. "I daresay that I do not know how you have the strength to endure such a profession. Ship building and mariner work seem simple in comparison."

"Thank you. It is hard some days, I will admit, but the rewards make it all worthwhile." Lienilde was referring to all of her healed patients when she used the word "rewards," but the expression on Isildur's face told her that he had taken it more personally. She did not correct him, though, for he truly was one of her greatest rewards, even if it was Eru who had cured him and not her own care. She was simply glad that he was well.

They walked again for a while in silence. Lienilde marveled that these silences did not seem awkward to her; with any other person they would have. Perhaps it was because they had already spent so much time in silence over the past few months, for they did not always talk much during her visits. They had simply grown comfortable with each other.

"It has been long since I have walked by the light of the stars and the moon, and breathed the air from the sea," Isildur finally said.

"Yes, I am sure it is, though I am afraid that I have taken such things for granted," Lienilde stammered. She did not know what else to say; she certainly could not relate to him being bedridden for so long.

"There is nothing wrong with that; it simply means that you are finding joy in other areas of your life."

"Perhaps," Lienilde replied, and then glanced at her escort. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and they exchanged a smile. Just then, however, Isildur stumbled, and Lienilde instinctively grabbed his arm before he fell completely. He gently fell to his knees and dropped her bag.

"Are you all right?" she asked, leaning over him, her hand still on his arm.

"I am fine," he replied, immediately standing up. Lienilde released his arm as Isildur brushed the dirt from his knees.

Seeing that he was not hurt, she could not help but giggle. "Perhaps we should keep our eyes on the path," she said.

"Perhaps," Isildur repeated, tugging up his pants, "or maybe I should see a tailor about these trousers. I must say, it is rather hard to keep one's physique when confined to bed for a whole season." Lienilde then noticed how loose his clothes were, and realized that he must have tripped on his own pant leg. He had lost a lot of weight recently, and even his baggy clothes could not hide it.

"I suppose it is," she replied, "though I am certain that you will gain your weight back soon. You are certainly healthy enough now."

"Yes, I hope so," he answered, picking up her bag.

"However, I would prefer it if you would let me carry the bag -- I do hope that you have not already broken anything in your little stunt just now."

It was now Isildur's turn to laugh. "I suppose you are right. In any case, I do not feel like arguing anymore about who will carry it." With that, Isildur relinquished the bag to the smiling girl.

They walked a few more steps, keeping their eyes focused ahead this time, when suddenly Lienilde began to giggle again.

"What is it?" Isildur asked.

"I was just thinking, on our last visit you promised me a story when you next saw me--"

"Ai, so I did -- though I am afraid to say I was too distracted today to come up with one!"

"That is all right," she continued after his interruption, "because I was just thinking that this night is better than any story -- and will be a story to remember in itself!" They flashed each other a smile again, or perhaps the smiles had just not left their faces that evening. Lienilde then said, "We are almost there; my house is just up this hill."

Isildur stopped walking and she turned to face him, wondering what had given him pause. "Perhaps I will fare you well here, then," he said. "I am sure your mother already has supper on the table, and I would hate to intrude."

"You would not intrude!" Lienilde exclaimed. "Why, they would love to meet you!"

"Nonetheless, I would prefer to save my introduction for a time that is not so late. Good night, Lienilde, and maybe I will see you again soon."

There was no sense in arguing any more, for Lienilde did not want to end the night on a sour note. "Good night then, and thank you for the escort home."

"It was my pleasure." Isildur nodded, then turned and walked away, leaving Lienilde to walk to the last few steps to her home alone. She was slightly annoyed that he would not come in and meet her family, but that annoyance soon passed. A lot had happened that day, and perhaps Isildur was simply too tired -- from Lienilde's stories, he surely realized that Melde would try to make him stay for supper and talk to him all through the night. Or maybe he really was being polite and did not want to interrupt their meal. In either case, Lienilde certainly could not stay angry with him for long.

With these thoughts, Lienilde entered her house with a smile on her face. She found her parents and younger brother seated at the kitchen table waiting for her arrival, while supper stayed warm over the fire.

"Lienilde!" her mother exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Where you have you been? Come here and have some supper before it is time for bed." Melde then turned and started serving the meal, not waiting for an answer from her daughter.

Failon noticed his sister's smile and before she could say anything, he added, "You look rather cheerful tonight." She knew that it was a question, not a statement.

"Well, yes, yes I am," Lienilde replied, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to tell them, "because Isildur has been healed."

"Healed?" Mandil asked. "Do you mean, he is getting better?"

"No," Lienilde answered, "he _is_ better. Eru has healed him. It is as if he was never ill."

"Really?" Failon asked, clearly intrigued by the story.

Lienilde's news was enough to make Melde pause her work in the kitchen and turn toward her daughter.

"Why do you suppose he was healed now?" Melde asked, "rather than soon after he was injured? Are you sure it is Eru's doing and not the result of your months of care for him?"

"I am certain," Lienilde replied. She was not surprised that her family was skeptical; she would be too if she had heard the story. "Yesterday was no different than any other day -- his fever remained and the pain of his wounds kept him in bed. But this morning, the first leaf of Nimloth's seedling opened, and his pain and fever left him. Even his wounds have disappeared; in fact, he even walked me home tonight."

"He did?" Melde asked, still taking in her daughter's news. "Why did you not invite him in? He could have stayed for dinner, I could have added another potato to the pot and--"

"I did invite him," Lienilde interrupted her mother's chatter. "But he was too polite and did not want to disrupt our meal."

"Nonsense!" Melde replied. "Tell him that next time, I will be more upset if he does not come in!" With that, Melde finished serving the meal, and after a while the topic of conversation turned to other things. It was not until later that night that Lienilde realized her mother had spoken as if she was sure that Isildur would be visiting their home again, even though Lienilde had not mentioned their plans to continue seeing each other.

* * *

_"Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil; and a shoot arose from it and sprouted in the spring. But when its first leaf opened then Isildur, who had lain long and come near death, arose and was troubled no more by his wounds."_

_The Akallabeth, from The Silmarillion _

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	18. An Unexpected Guest

**Chapter 18: An Unexpected Guest**

The next two days passed rather slowly for Lienilde. It felt strange to return to work, knowing that she would not be seeing Isildur at the end of the day, and she found it hard to keep her thoughts away from him. He had said that he would like her to visit "occasionally", but how often was "occasionally"? She was certain that it was not every day, but when should she see him again? She wished they had scheduled a time for her to visit next, or that he had been the one to initiate the visits. She was not particularly comfortable making the decision herself.

However, it would turn out that she would not need to make the decision after all. Two days after Isildur first rose healed from his wounds, Lienilde arrived home one evening to see her former patient seated at her kitchen table.

"Isildur!" she exclaimed upon entering the house, "What are you doing here? You seem determined to keep me surprised as of late!" She quickly glanced around the house to locate her family: Failon was seated at the table near Isildur, and Melde had her back turned to them as she prepared supper. Lienilde could hear her father in another room; likely he had just come home from the smithy and was changing out of his soot-covered work clothes.

"Why, waiting for you, of course," Isildur answered her question with a smile.

"I -- I can see that," she replied. She was feeling rather flustered finding Isildur in her own home, seated in the kitchen as if he were one of the family. She wondered how long he had been there and what her mother had told him, for Melde never remained silent while a guest was in the house.

"I was wondering," Isildur then asked, "if you would care to join my family for supper, to thank you for all of your hard work. My father managed to procure a chicken at the marketplace and it has been roasting all day."

Lienilde smiled; she had once mentioned that roast chicken was her favorite meal, for like most people in the seaport of Romenna her family ate fish more nights than not. She suddenly felt flattered that he would remember. However, she seemed rather incapable of forming an intelligent reply at the moment. "Tonight?" she asked, and then mentally scolded herself. _Of course it is tonight; Elendil has not been roasting a chicken all day for tomorrow's meal!_

"Of course," Isildur replied. "And I am not sure if you even have much of a choice -- it seems that your mother has forgotten to set out a plate for you tonight." Sure enough, Lienilde saw there were only three plates on the kitchen table. Melde, who had remained surprisingly silent during the exchange, flashed her daughter a smile over her shoulder. Lienilde then knew that Isildur had arrived quite some time ago, for she could sense a friendly conspiracy growing in the house.

"Then I would love to join you," she finally said, also smiling. Suddenly feeling rather self-conscious as she considered being a guest in his home that night, she glanced down at her grubby work dress, complete with a large stain where an infant had spit up on her earlier that day.

Reading her thoughts, Isildur added, "You may change first, of course; take as long as you need."

"Thank you," she replied, though she was immediately interrupted by Failon who had just noticed the stain:

"Ew, what is that?" he asked. Lienilde glared at her brother and he quickly fell silent, and as she turned to leave she could not help but notice Isildur stifling a laugh.

Shutting the door to her room tightly, she quickly began to look through her small wardrobe, searching for something suitable to wear. Most of her everyday dresses were rather worn and colored some shade of brown, though she did have a few nice dresses. Her fingers touched the red dress she had worn to Ardil's wedding. _I would like Isildur to see me in this._ The thought flashed through her mind but she quickly pushed it aside; the red dress with golden trim was much too fancy for this occasion. She instead settled on a simple dark green dress. She had always liked how this dress fit her: the tailored waist and slightly full skirt gave the illusion of womanly curves at her narrow hips. Besides, it was one of the few dresses that she did not wear while at work or in the garden and was thus still unstained.

She slipped into the dress and then turned to the mirror as she undid her messy braid. It had rained earlier that day and her hair was in no condition to wear down, so she took a few moments to twist it up into a neat knot and pin it in place. Satisfied, she left her room, hoping that she had not kept Isildur waiting too long.

She was pleased to find Isildur still seated at the table, listening to Failon tell some tale about how he and his friends had gone tree-climbing that day. _At least Failon did not challenge him to a game of chess_, she thought with a smile. Mandil had joined them and was also seated at the table, listening to Failon. Melde was still occupied in the kitchen.

At Lienilde's entrance, Isildur's eyes quickly moved to her and he smiled in approval at her attire. Lienilde returned the smile and then walked over to stand by him while Failon finished his story.

"I am afraid we should be leaving now," Isildur said, once the boy paused for a moment. Rising from his seat, he turned to Mandil and said, "Thank you for allowing me to invite your daughter to my father's house."

Both men knew it was only a formality: Lienilde had spent every evening at Isildur's home for the past several months, why would Mandil not allow her to go to dinner? Plus, it had been a full year since Lienilde came of age; she was an adult even if her father wished she was still a little girl. "You are welcome," Mandil replied. With a quick farewell to the rest of the family, Lienilde and Isildur went on their way.

* * *

"How have you faired these last two days without me?" Isildur asked with a smile as they walked to his home.

"Quite well; thank you for your concern," Lienilde answered in jest. "Though in truth, I am glad to see you again."

"And I am pleased to see you," he replied, the smile not leaving his face, though he seemed to have less of a playful look in his eye.

"What have you done to keep yourself occupied the last two days, now that you are no longer confined to bed?"

"I have passed the time with my father and brother at the shipyards. It felt wonderful to breathe the sea air, to hold the ropes of the mast; even sawing wood was a welcome change."

"Sawing wood, eh? Does that mean that your strength has fully recovered?"

"Always the healer," Isildur laughed. "I will admit that I am not quite as strong as I was last summer, after lying in bed all winter. But it is nothing to be concerned about: my full strength will easily return by the end of this summer."

"That is good to hear," she replied. She was still rather amazed at his instantaneous recovery: it still seemed odd to see him out of bed, to be walking with him through the city streets. Yet she was still happy to see him recovered, proud of him almost. As they neared the marketplace she glanced around, watching the shopkeepers close their stands and the last customers head home for the night. To them, Lienilde and Isildur were simply another young couple, walking home for dinner after a day's work. Lienilde almost wanted to tell them that no, Isildur was special! Here he was, her miraculous patient, her friend, walking with her for only the second time since they met four long months ago. Yet she knew that she could make no such announcement; she would have to be content with only her family and Isildur's family knowing of his secret.

Though such thoughts did bring another question to Lienilde's mind: "What did you tell the men at the shipyard when you returned? How did they react?"

"Father had already told them that I long lay ill, so I said the only thing that I could: that I was well, and that the illness had left me with the arrival of the warmth of spring. Many were surprised that I healed so quickly, or that Father had not told them of my progress until I appeared at the harbor completely healed. Of course, we could not tell them that there was no progress until Nimloth's leaf opened!" he answered.

"Of course," she said with a smile. When she thought of all that she and Isildur and his family had endured over the past four months, she could not help but beam with joy to know that their troubles had come to an end. Since Isildur first rose, she had hardly even thought of Sauron's dreadful work in Armenelos. She had also not seen Ardil since the day she spoke to him about Isildur, so she thought little of him as well. Of course, all of those sad thoughts had still entered her mind, especially since most of her patients still insisted on talking about such things, but she had not been dwelling on those thoughts as much as she had previously. Isildur's injuries must have worried her more than she realized, for his healing to bring her such happiness.

The rest of the walk passed quickly as Isildur told of her of his day at the shipyards, and before long, they had arrived at Elendil's home. They entered to find Amandil sitting in the front room by the fire, while Elendil and Anarion were busy in the kitchen. After a cursory greeting to Amandil, they joined the men in the kitchen.

"Is there anything we can we do to help?" Lienilde asked soon after arriving in the kitchen.

"No, I do not believe so," Elendil answered. Indeed, he and Anarion were already hardly working, just occasionally stirring a pot and watching the chicken roast over the fire. "Besides, you are our guest, and we cannot have you cooking your own meal!"

"Which reminds me," she replied, "I do want to thank you for inviting me tonight. I have already eaten so many meals in this kitchen; I do not believe it is necessary--"

"But never a meal with Isildur," Elendil interrupted with a smile on his face.

Lienilde felt her face flush slightly. "No, I suppose not."

With that, Isildur placed a hand on her shoulder. "My father and brother seem to have everything under control here, Lienilde. Let us go speak with my grandfather."

Isildur and Lienilde then made their way back to the front room. Amandil had been staring into the fire, clearly lost in thought, but looked up when they entered. "There was nothing for us to do in the kitchen," Lienilde explained, as they took a seat in two empty chairs nearby.

"I see," Amandil simply answered, straightening up to face them.

"Does something trouble you?" Isildur then asked. "Have you received any new tidings?"

"Let us not speak of that right now," he answered. "I do not wish to darken this happy night."

_But I believe you already have_, Lienilde thought, her previously light-hearted mood quickly fading. Amandil's words made it clear that he knew something she did not, and she knew that she would spend much of the evening trying to guess at his new knowledge. She thought back to the argument she had with Isildur a few days ago, when she had wished that she had never heard of Sauron's works. She had been pondering her previous words for several days now, and she knew now that they were no longer true.

"I am not so sure," Lienilde replied hesitantly. "I -- well, I think I would rather know what you were thinking, to know what was happening in Armenelos. Perhaps then, we could do something about it, or at least pray for the King's forgiveness." She lowered her eyes when she finished speaking, but she felt Isildur reach over and place his hand on her knee.

Amandil smiled slightly, though Lienilde did not see it, but the smile vanished from his face as quickly as it appeared. "Another of the Faithful has been arrested on charges of rebelling against the King. We fear that he may be the next sacrifice."

"I should not be surprised," Lienilde mumbled, for she had already guessed at Amandil's news.

"Thank you for telling us, Grandfather," Isildur said. The three then fell silent, for what else could they say on the matter? Despite Lienilde's words, there really was nothing they could do right now, so far away from Armenelos, with so little influence in the King's court. Thus they sat for several long moments, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Finally Amandil stood. "Well, it is approaching suppertime. I think I shall join my son in the kitchen; he never did learn how to properly carve a chicken."

Lienilde and Isildur smiled and rose from their seats, but did not follow him into the kitchen immediately. Rather, they turned and faced each other. Isildur wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled. "Lienilde," Isildur whispered, so that the men in the kitchen would not hear, "I do believe you are becoming a woman after my own heart."

Lienilde smiled, slightly embarrassed by his praise, though she did not know quite what to say. However, Isildur knew her thoughts, and simply squeezed her shoulder, then released her and headed into the kitchen. She soon followed suit, and it was not long before they were all seated at the table, enjoying a dinner of roast chicken and boiled vegetables, chatting as though all was well with the world.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.


	19. Questions Under the Stars

**Chapter 19: Questions Under the Stars**

The meal passed quickly, and the conversation was light as they all pushed thoughts of Sauron from their minds and focused on what they were celebrating: Isildur's healing and Lienilde's dedication to his care. The men shared stories of the shipyard, Lienilde told a few light-hearted tales from her work, and they all spoke of what they would plant in their gardens now that spring was arriving. Sauron's work, and indeed even Isildur's healing, was not mentioned. For even though they were celebrating his healing and that the event had brought them all much happiness, thinking of his recovery also brought to mind the terrible events that had brought about his injuries, and all that had happened since. Thus they focused on other things, and it was simply an enjoyable dinner with Isildur's family. Though Lienilde was so focused on their conversation, she did not notice that she and Isildur did most of the talking.

After dinner, Lienilde found herself seated with Amandil and his grandsons in the front room, while Elendil finished cleaning up in the kitchen. Their after-dinner conversation retained the happy mood of the meal, and while Lienilde was telling a story of Failon's latest exploits, a knock sounded on the door. Amandil rose to answer it, and Lienilde turned in her seat to see a middle-aged man with blond hair standing in the doorway.

"Greetings, Nolvo," Amandil welcomed the man. "Please come in, though we cannot speak long, for we have a guest tonight."

Nolvo peeked through the doorway, and seeing Lienilde he said, "Oh, I did not mean to interrupt--"

"It is fine," Lienilde answered, smiling at the man. "I was planning on leaving soon anyways."

"Nolvo and I shall go to the back room, so we will not disturb the rest of you," Amandil said.

But as Amandil stepped aside to let Nolvo enter, the guest suddenly noticed Isildur sitting not far from Lienilde. "Isildur!" Nolvo exclaimed. "I did not realize that you were well!"

Isildur grinned, but before he could answer, Amandil said, "Ah yes, and it is quite the interesting story. Isildur, why don't you come with us and tell it?" Then turning to Lienilde, he added, "He will just be a moment."

"Of course," Lienilde answered, as Isildur rose and followed the men into the back room. She glanced over at Anarion, and he gave her a brief smile but said nothing as the conversation died in an awkward silence. She had been chatting with his family all night, and there was little left to say. Looking back over the past few months, she realized that she had spent little time alone with Anarion: the dance they shared at Ardil's wedding was the most memorable, and there was the time that he had visited her and her family when she was ill. But most of the time they had spent together had been in the presence of Anarion's other family members.

Just as she was trying to think of something to say to break the silence, Anarion spoke instead: "Lienilde, I do not believe we have had a chance to truly thank you for everything you have done for my brother."

"But I--"

Anarion held up a hand and she fell silent again. "Do not try to say you were just doing your job," he said with a slight smile. Lienilde's eyes widened slightly, for he had correctly guessed what she would say. "You are too predictable," he continued in jest, but the playful smile was soon replaced by a more thoughtful one as he went on. "You have been more than just a healer to him, and to us -- you are a part of our family now."

Lienilde smiled, glad to hear his words. For indeed, she did feel like a part of the family. She had spent much time with these four men as of late. She had seen their pain and they had seen hers, they had shared their thoughts and fears, and she had rejoiced with them when Isildur was healed. "I am pleased to hear that," she finally replied.

Anarion returned her smile. "Lienilde, I am happy for you--"

Before he could continue, Isildur returned to the room and Anarion fell silent. Lienilde turned to see what had interrupted Anarion and smiled as Isildur took his seat next to her. Quickly forgetting what Anarion had been saying, she said to Isildur, "Well, that was quick."

"Yes," Isildur answered, "Nolvo is a close confidant of our family, and he already knew most of the tale. I only had to tell him of the ending."

"I see," Lienilde replied. The conversation then fell into nervous small talk -- for while the three did not feel comfortable sitting in silence, they were also worried that Nolvo had brought more ill tidings. However, it was not long before Amandil and Nolvo returned to the front room. Nolvo gave the young adults a cursory goodbye on his way out, and Amandil returned to his seat.

"Did Nolvo bring any news?" Anarion asked his grandfather after the guest had left.

"No, nothing that I did not already know," the older man answered. "I told him more than he told me."

"That is good, I suppose," Anarion answered. Elendil then joined them in the front room, and after a few more moments of conversation -- for they seemed to be running out of topics by the night's end -- Lienilde decided it was time for her leave.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner," she told Elendil as she prepared to depart. "It was much appreciated."

"You are welcome," he replied. "And please remember that you are welcome in our home at any time."

"Thank you," she repeated, and as she spoke she stole a glance at Amandil, who had said little during the night. He simply smiled at her, and there was a sparkle in the old man's eye that rather surprised Lienilde. Yet she had little time to think of it, for Isildur soon spoke up:

"Would you care for an escort home again?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered, and with one last smile towards the rest of his family, they turned and left the house.

"I am glad you were able to join us," Isildur said as they began the walk to her home.

"As am I," she replied. "I am happy that I did not have to work as late this evening as I have had to in the past." Lienilde then felt Isildur's hand reach for her own. Their fingers entwined, and Lienilde trembled slightly at their touch. They walked a few moments in silence, hand in hand, until finally she said, "These last few days have been so... unreal to me."

"In what way?" Isildur asked.

"It still seems so odd to see you out of bed, and I am so happy that you are well. I had begun to think--"

"Hush," he replied softly, a smile on his lips. "Let us have just one evening of happy conversation."

Lienilde also smiled. "Of course. Though I must admit, I am still very proud of you for what you did -- I still cannot fathom how you found the courage!"

"Oh, Lienilde," he replied, "any fool with a sword could have done what I did. It is really I that should be admiring you -- I do not know how you have the strength to deal with the ill every day."

Lienilde grinned at his flattery. "Thank you," she answered, not sure of what else to say. With that, they fell into a comfortable silence as they continued to walk, each enjoying the views of quiet marketplace under the stars on a clear night. Suddenly Lienilde realized that they were not taking her normal path back to her house. She had been simply walking, letting Isildur lead, and had not noticed until now that they were veering toward the edge of the marketplace, while Lienilde normally cut through the middle. Indeed, she had led him down her normal track the last time he had walked her home, so he knew the way to her house. "Where are we going?" she finally asked.

"Ah, I am surprised it took you so long to notice," her escort answered. "It is still early, and I thought you might enjoy a detour to the beach, to see the stars over the sea."

"I would enjoy that," she said with a squeeze to his hand. They then turned and headed directly for the shoreline, saying nothing. They had conversed all evening, and now they both felt content to walk in silence under Elbereth's stars. When they neared the shore, Isildur led her not to the sandy beach, but to a grassy hill overlooking the sea. They then took a seat in the grass and sat in silence for a moment, staring at the clear night sky. However, their hands were not so content and soon wandered and found each other once again.

Finally, Isildur turned toward her and spoke. "I have missed you these past two days."

"As have I," she replied with a smile. "While I am certainly happy that you are well, I had rather missed our daily visits."

"Lienilde," he continued, nervously rubbing his thumb up and down her hand, "I cannot help but feel that Eru has brought us together for a purpose. Your face was truly a light for me in this dark winter, and your visits encouraged me in a way I never would have predicted."

Lienilde's cheeks warmed at his flattery. She was surprised at the personal turn this conversation was taking, and could feel his nervousness at opening up to her, yet somehow she found the words to express her thoughts as well: "I felt the same way, ever since the day we first met. At the time, I could not explain why I was so drawn to help you, but I believe now that the Valar -- or perhaps Eru himself -- formed that bond between us, so that you would receive all the care you needed until the day Nimloth's descendent opened its first leaf."

"But yet the leaf has opened, and the bond is still there, is it not?" he answered. She simply smiled and nodded. "Lienilde," he continued, rather quickly, "I love you, and I want to know, will you be my wife?"

Lienilde's heart leapt at his words. Even though she had hardly been able to admit it to herself, this was a desire that had long lain secret within her. Yet even though her heart longed to say "yes", her mind had one last question, which she found herself speaking before she had fully thought it through: "But Isildur, I--" she saw his face fall at her first words, and she immediately squeezed his hand to reassure him and continued, "I do love you, it's just that -- well, how do we know that our feelings are not simply brought on from being healer and patient? How will we feel tomorrow, a year from now, a decade from now?"

"Is that your only worry?" Isildur answered, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Lienilde wondered at his sudden confidence -- she had thought it a rather important question to consider, for after all, their relationship had been one of healer and patient for four months, up until just two days ago.

"I -- I suppose so," she answered.

"Then let me ask you this," he replied, and Lienilde began to wonder if he had already considered the question himself. But surely he had -- surely he had not simply asked her hand in marriage on a whim! _But then again, he nearly killed himself on a whim in Armenelos_, she thought. But Isildur continued before she could dwell on her thoughts any further: "How did you react, how did you _feel_ when I was healed, and afterwards? How does that compare to when another of your patients are healed?"

"Well, you can hardly compare the two--" she began, but suddenly realized where his question was leading. She knew the answer he wanted to hear, and she smiled as she realized that that was the answer she was going to tell him. However, she decided to play along first, for this seemed as good of time as any to voice her thoughts on the matter. "For one, none of my other patients risked their lives in such a heroic act!" Isildur smiled at her compliment, as she knew he would. "But I was overly happy when you were healed, more so than any other patient. And I have looked forward to seeing you again after you were healed. I cannot imagine my future without you." After a brief pause, she continued, "But what about you? Do you love me only because I was your healer?"

"Of course not!" he replied, though he did understand why she asked the question. She felt confident that she loved him not simply because he was her patient, and she wanted to make sure that he felt the same way. "That is one of the things I love _about_ you, yes, but not the reason I love you."

"Then why do you love me?"

"If I could say why I love you, then would that not be a conditional love? If I say I love you because you are a healer, then would I still love you when you are at home with our children? If I say I love you for your beauty, then would I still love you when you are old and grey? I certainly enjoy those things -- and many more that I did not list -- but it is not why I love you. If I must give an answer, then I would say that I love you simply because of who you are."

Lienilde could not help but smile at his flattery, though she wondered if his speech had been rehearsed or if he was always so eloquent in such situations. Had he anticipated her question? In the end she decided that it did not matter, for she knew his words were true, and her heart soared to know that he thought that way of her.

"Lienilde," Isildur continued, "I know I have surprised you tonight and given you much to think about. You have not had the weeks confined to bed to reflect on your thoughts as I have, and I do not want you to answer until you are ready. I know that I am asking for a huge commitment, but I am confident that we are both prepared -- and willing -- to make it."

A commitment: Lienilde had never fallen in love before, but the one thing she had learned from watching her parents over the years was that a marriage needed both love and a conscious commitment to remain happy as time went on. _I have already kept one commitment_, she realized, _to stay with him and help him until his body healed. And yes, I am ready to make another, one that will endure for the rest of our lives_. At this thought, Lienilde smiled -- not the slightly embarrassed grin of hearing his compliments, but a genuinely happy smile, and Isildur could see the difference.

"I do believe you are correct," she answered. "I did not realize it until now, but that is what I really wanted to hear -- that you were not asking for my hand on a whim, but understood the commitment involved. You are a part of me now, and I truly cannot imagine my life without you. I do love you, and -- and I would be overjoyed to be your wife." Lienilde was almost surprised to find that although just a few short moments ago she was still unsure about saying those words, now she was happy and knew that she had made the right decision. She suddenly felt rather silly for her long hesitation and questions, though if she had stopped to think about it, she would have realized that her hesitation was simply brought on by the surprise of Isildur's proposal, not because of any real doubt in her heart.

Isildur's face also broke into a huge smile; clearly he had been nervous as to whether his answers would satisfy her. Suddenly he released her hand for the first time since their conversation began, and reached for a small leather wallet at his belt. Lienilde watched with curiosity as he emptied the contents of the bag into his hand then held them up for her to see: two unadorned silver rings rested in his palm, shining in the moonlight.

"I doubt many on this isle still remember," Isildur then said, "but the Eldar have a tradition of wearing silver rings during their betrothal, and then returning them at the wedding."

"I -- I don't know what to say," Lienilde said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

"You do not need to say anything," he replied. Lienilde then held out her hand and Isildur slipped the smaller of the two rings onto her finger. "A little loose," he muttered as he realized the ring was too large for her delicate fingers, not yet calloused with years of labor.

"It is all right; my father can fix it at the smithy," she replied. Isildur then placed the other ring on his own finger, then took her hand once more -- the hand which now bore the slender silver ring. He pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss, then leaned back and simply gazed at her. Nothing more needed to be said at the moment.

Lienilde returned his stare, still trying to absorb all that had happened that night, and slightly surprised at the emotions that his kiss had sparked in her. She studied him more closely now -- even in the dim moonlight, she could still see all the features that she admired most about him: his broad shoulders, his strong jaw line, and his dark gray eyes, now glistening with happiness. The starlight shone on his sleek, bound hair, while a few wisps that had escaped from their tie floated in the breeze.

Suddenly, Lienilde's face lit up with a grin, as a sparkle formed in her eye. Isildur's eyebrows arched slightly in surprise, wondering at her thoughts. "Sometimes, Isildur," she said, "you are just too polite." Wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck, she drew him into a kiss that lasted much longer than the first.

* * *

**Notes:**

Lienilde: "People-loving", a twenty-six-year-old healer's apprentice.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's thirty-three-year-old brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's thirteen-year-old brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.  
Nolvo: "Secret lore."


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Lienilde smiled at the memory of that night, so many years ago, as she gazed across the sea. The sun had begun its descent and the reflections on the waves were slowly turning from a shimmery gold to a rich orange. Lienilde then glanced the other way to see the shipbuilders hard at work in the harbor. The ship in which she stood had just been completed the previous day, and once it was loaded with supplies it would be ready for its maiden voyage.

Lienilde turned her back to the harbor to face the sea once more. Looking upon the rolling waves and the clear sky, growing darker as the sun set, was much more peaceful than watching the harbor workers. She leaned against the ship's railing and returned to her memories.

She still remembered the day Isildur proposed perfectly, though the memory always brought a twinge of embarrassment as she recalled her hesitation. She knew that Isildur would have much preferred an immediate, emphatic "yes" from her. However her mother, and later Isildur, had always told her that she had a tendency to over analyze things, so her questions should not have surprised either of them. Yet in the end it mattered not, for they were married now and that was what was most important.

Lienilde and Isildur had told their families of their betrothal the following day, giving Lienilde a night to fully absorb all that had happened. Isildur's family was hardly surprised and was very pleased, though the news came as a bit more of a shock to Lienilde's parents. Yet her parents soon embraced the couple's decision, for they knew that Isildur was a good man worthy of being their daughter's husband. No doubt they had also seen that Lienilde was nearing the completion of her transformation from girl to woman, in part due to Isildur's influence.

The couple was betrothed for a year, partly so that their wedding would not interfere with the birth of Ardil and Inzil's first child, and partly so that they could simply enjoy a traditional courtship. They were married the following spring, just a little over a year after Nimloth's seedling first opened its leaves. The wedding ceremony was short and simple, very similar to her brother Ardil's wedding, but the memory that Lienilde most treasured from that day was what transpired just before the ceremony: she and Isildur, along with their closest family members, had gathered in Elendil's house while Amandil spoke a prayer blessing their upcoming union.

Lienilde completed her apprenticeship not long after they were wed, and continued her healer's duties for many years until the birth of their first child, Elendur, just twenty years ago. After that she stayed at home with Elendur, though she continued to act as a healer for her neighbors and a few loyal patients who would come to her home.

Over the years Isildur often took her to the shipyards to show her his work, and sometimes they would set sail for a few weeks, though they never strayed far from Numenor. Lienilde's love for the sea continued to grow, and she often spent time in the harbor or on the beach when she was not needed at home.

However, life had not grown happier over the years. Sauron's hold on the King strengthened with each year, and now almost the entire isle openly worshiped Melkor as Ar-Pharazon fully abandoned the ways of his fathers. Sauron continually offered up human sacrifices to the Dark Lord, the victims chosen from among the Faithful, though they were always -- and often falsely -- accused of some crime first. (Thus Isildur never took his wife to Armenelos to show her the palace as he had hoped to, for they deemed the journey too dangerous.) Sauron claimed that the sacrifices would keep death from the land, yet the opposite proved true: men began to fight and murder for little cause as Sauron's servants spread strife throughout the land. The Valar began to send great and terrible signs, yet the people paid little heed and never repented for more than a season. Lightning from the Eagles of Manwe regularly struck down the citizens of Numenor. Great storms sunk their ships and droughts ruined their crops, even though in generations past the weather had always been favorable to the Numenoreans' desires. The number of healers in Romenna alone had grown nearly tenfold in recent years, though often they could do little good.

Now Sauron was urging the King to make open war upon Valinor itself, claiming that it was his right to take it and that by doing so, he would finally achieve immortality and escape the imminent Doom of Man. Thus it came to pass that Amandil set sail to Aman himself, in an attempt to plead the case of Numenor before the Valar and ask for their mercy. Yet Elendil and his sons knew that Earendil's feat could not be repeated in the history of Men, and thus they already mourned for Amandil, doubting that he would ever return. Numenor's fall was too great and too complete for it to be redeemed by one man's act.

"Lienilde." The sound of her husband's voice startled her and she spun to face him. He stood tall before her, the sunset glowing in his dark eyes, the wind catching at his unbound hair and loose tunic. Though a few gray hairs had already appeared on Lienilde's head, Isildur looked nearly the same as the day they were betrothed, with only a few lines at the corners of his eyes to indicate that he had aged at all.

"Lienilde," he repeated, stepping closer and taking her hand. "It is time. We will set sail within the hour."

"So -- so soon?" Lienilde stammered. "Why? What has happened?"

"The King has determined to go to war, and tried to force my father into his service. Father managed to elude the King's servants and his ship is setting sail as we speak. We must leave soon."

"Oh Isildur," Lienilde nearly cried, drawing him into her arms. Though she had known this time would come, she had always hoped that it would not. Ever since Amandil had departed on his last journey, Elendil and his sons had begun preparing ships, so that they and a few of the Faithful might leave Numenor at a moment's notice. Indeed, the Faithful's families had been living on the ships for the past few weeks; Lienilde had not left the harbor for more than an hour's time since then.

Even though Lienilde would surely miss the isle of her birth, what saddened her the most was knowing that she would never see most of her family again. Failon and his wife and young daughter would be accompanying them and were already on board, and that brought her some comfort. However, Ardil and Inzil, along with their children, had long ago fallen to worshiping Melkor despite pleas from Lienilde and her parents for them to stop. She knew that she could never turn their hearts now and that they could not come with her; their fate must be that of Numenor. Amandil was adamant that as few as possible knew of the Faithful's preparations, and thus Lienilde could not even tell her brother goodbye: the long ago night that she had told Ardil of Isildur's deed in Armenelos was the first and last time that she shared any secrets of the Faithful with her elder brother. She had tried to tell Ardil of Isildur's miraculous healing a few days later, but he had brushed it off as mere coincidence. Thus she understood Amandil's concern and she had no desire to betray the Faithful, but she also knew that the grief of leaving Ardil behind would always be with her.

Her parents were also staying in Numenor, but for different reasons. Mandil and Melde, having wed rather late in life, were already reaching the end of their lives. Even though they sympathized with Lienilde's plight, they had no wish to begin such a journey at their age. They were content knowing that she and Failon and their families would be safe, and thus they wished to be with Ardil and his children until their last days. In a way Lienilde almost admired her parents, for like the kings of old they did not fear death, but still, such thoughts did nothing to brighten her heart. She had already bid what farewells she could, and now she must leave her family's fate in the hands of the Valar.

"I will miss them," Lienilde whispered into Isildur's shoulder, tears flowing down her face.

"I know," Isildur replied, squeezing her tight. He said no more, and did not need to, for they both knew the other's thoughts and burdens.

Lienilde stood for a long moment, wrapped in her husband's arms, her own hands encircling his waist, her head resting in that familiar spot on his chest. That she grieved for her family and feared for the future unknown, she could not deny. Yet through all of this turmoil, she knew that one thing would remain constant: Isildur would always be with her. His arms had held her and comforted her in many times past, and she knew they would comfort her again. Wherever the sea may take them, whatever the winds may bring their way, Lienilde could endure it with Isildur by her side.

Yet even as these thoughts went through her mind the wind shifted and blew from the West, bringing to her the sweet scent of the flowers of Nimloth's seedling, which was already hidden below deck on a nearby ship. Lienilde smiled through her tears.

* * *

As is recorded elsewhere, Elendil, his sons, and their families took nine ships and anchored them off the eastern coast of Numenor. The King and his soldiers bothered them no more, as they set sail into the West to make war upon the Valar themselves. A month after Ar-Pharazon first broke the Ban of the Valar and sailed into the West, the Valar unleashed their full wrath upon the isle. The very waves formed by Numenor's plunge into the sea bore Elendil's ships to the shores of Middle-Earth. 

There Elendil and his sons established the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, where they ruled for over one hundred years. During this time Lienilde bore two more sons, whom they named Aratan and Ciryon. Lienilde also continued her healer's duties, treating men injured in skirmishes against the Orcs of Mordor. She soon became thankful for the bit of foresight she had shown before fleeing Numenor: the few _athelas_ plants she had taken on the ships proved very useful, for the healing herb did not grow natively in the lands of Middle-Earth.

Finally, Sauron made his move against the heirs of Earendil and seized Minas Ithil. During this attack, the White Tree of Gondor, Nimloth's scion, was burned, though once again Isildur saved a seedling, which he bore with him as they escaped. For after the attack on Minas Ithil, Isildur, Lienilde, and their three sons fled to the North and joined Elendil, while Anarion remained in Gondor to defend against Sauron's further advances. It was in Imladris that Lienilde gave birth to their fourth son, Valandil, and the two stayed behind in the safety of the valley while Isildur and their three elder sons marched to war with the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

Thus Lienilde waited years for their return, and words cannot describe the pain she felt when the esquire Estelmo brought her tidings of her sons' deaths near Gladden Fields and of Isildur's disappearance and likely death. Her heart was shattered, and though she tried to remain strong for Valandil's sake, she was never fully healed. Years later, after Valandil was grown and established as the King of Arnor, and married with children of his own, Lienilde would welcome death as the Gift of Man, hoping to see her beloved husband again.

Yet Estelmo's words that horrible day brought her some comfort despite his dreadful news, to hear that Isildur had repented of his pride and had resisted the temptation of the Ring. "I cannot use it," Estelmo had overheard Isildur tell his eldest son Elendur. "I dread the pain of touching it. And I have not yet found the strength to bend it to my will. It needs one greater than I now know myself to be. My pride has fallen. It should go to the Keepers of the Three. Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom." (1)

Thus Isildur left the battlefield, where two of his sons already lay dead and the third was doomed to die, in an attempt to bring Sauron's ring to Imladris and to receive Elrond's counsel. Though a full age would pass before the wise would learn of Isildur's fate, Lienilde knew in her heart that when her husband died, he had been the compassionate, honorable man that she had married so many years ago on the fallen isle of Numenor.

* * *

_So it was that he [Isildur came at last to the banks of Anduin at the dead of night, and he was weary; for he had made a journey that the Dunedain on such ground could have made no quicker, marching without halt and by day. The river was swirling dark and swift before him. He stood a while, alone and in despair. Then in haste he cast off all his armour and weapons, save a short sword at his belt, and plunged into the water. He was a man of strength and endurance that few even of the Dunedain of that age could equal, but he had little hope to gain the other shore. Before he had gone far he was forced to turn almost north against the current; and strive as he might he was ever swept down towards the tangles of the Gladden Fields. They were nearer than he had thought, and even as he felt the stream slacken and had almost won across he found himself struggling among great rushes and clinging weeds. There suddenly he knew that the Ring had gone. By chance, or chance well used, it had left his hand and gone where he could never hope to find it again. At first so overwhelming was his sense of loss that he struggled no more, and would have sunk and drowned. But swift as it had come the mood passed. The pain had left him. A great burden had been taken away. His feet found the river bed, and heaving himself up out of the mud he floundered through the reeds to a marshy islet close to the western shore. There he rose up out of the water: only a mortal man, a small creature lost and abandoned in the wilds of Middle-Earth. But to the night-eyed Orcs that lurked there on the watch he loomed up, a monstrous shadow of fear, with a piercing eye like a star [from the light of the Elendilmir. They loosed their poisoned arrows at it, and fled. Needlessly, for Isildur unarmed was pierced through heart and throat, and with a cry he fell back into the water. No trace of his body was ever found by Elves or Men. So passed the first victim of the malice of the masterless Ring: Isildur, second King of all the Dunedain, lord of Arnor and Gondor, and in that age of the World the last._

_"Disaster of the Gladden Fields", from the book Unfinished Tales_

* * *

(1) This is a quote from "The Disaster of the Gladden Fields," except that the last sentence came from a different conversation than the others. However, Isildur still spoke all of these words to Elendur at some point during the battle.

Also, several paragraphs of the epilogue are simply paraphrases or summaries of Tolkien's history of Numenor and Middle-Earth and of Isildur's fate. All of the historical information for this chapter can be found in "The Akallabeth," "The Disaster of the Gladden Fields," or in the appendices of Lord of the Rings. I also used the birthdates of Isildur's sons given in HOME XII.

Lienilde: "People-loving", wife of Isildur.  
Vorime: "Faithful" or "Steadfast", healer and Lienilde's master.  
Ardil: "Noble Friend", Lienilde's elder brother.  
Failon: "Generous, Just", Lienilde's younger brother.  
Melde: "Beloved", Lienilde's mother.  
Mandil: "Good Friend", Lienilde's father.  
Inzil: Adunaic for "Flower", Ardil's wife.

Author's Note: We have finally reached the end of the story, and I hope you enjoyed it! And thank you for all of the positive reviews!

Watch for a short two-chapter sequel to appear soon!


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